Broken Soulmarks
by Lady Viola Delesseps
Summary: Darcy Lewis was only trying to help when she accidentally crossed the projected beam and was suddenly transported to Middle-Earth. Political science will get her nowhere, especially not when she meets a certain blond-haired elf, who may be able to explain the meaning of the strange mark she has always borne on her wrist... Written by Tamarama on AO3 and posted with her permission.
1. Chapter 1

_Broken Soulmarks_, by **Tamarama **on AO3.

Note from **Lady** **Viola**: This not my work, and is entirely the work of this brilliant authoress, cross-posted here with her permission. Please note that in it's original form this is an M rated fiction on AO3. With the authoress' consent, instances of language have been adjusted to a T rating to fit within my personal values, and have been approved by her. Head over to AO3 if you would rather read the original version.

[Original summary from AO3]: This takes place in the universe established by amusewithaview, in which everyone in that universe is born with, or acquires when their soulmate is born, a soulmate-identifying mark. Specifically, their lovers' first words to them are printed on their skin. In this case, Darcy has a Jane-related lab accident and gets sucked into Middle Earth. Notes:

Inspired by "Words on my skin, love in my heart" by amusewithaview.

This is based on the universe created by amusewithaview. And it worked out perfectly because Darcy works for Jane, who tries to open up the Einstein-Rosen bridge, so at least as far as the Marvel universe is concerned, this could totally happen. So for the MCU universe, this is post-Thor 2. And I think this is post-LOTR in the Tolkien universe, just assuming that Legolas is on vacay in the Mirkwood post-coronation, etc.

**- Tamarama**

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><p>Chapter 1: Happy Little Accidents<p>

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Darcy knew better than to be "too different." As a kid, her soulmark had made her life misery. It was just a band around her wrist of some kind of screwed up letters. It was in no language she knew, and the teachers she asked in grade school sure didn't know. It __sorta __looked English. If English was mostly capital T's and lower-case m's, and if the letters were squished and fat. Darcy was pretty sure the number 6 was in her soulmark. And what was with the weird little diamond shapes?

So Darcy wore a series of bangles on her wrist to cover it up, and got a fake ID the instant she knew such things existed. Then she hitchhiked to Totally Legit Tattoos near the university, flashed the ID and her budding cleavage, forked over her babysitting money, and had her other wrist tattooed with "It's you." And she displayed it like it was going out of style.

She never met anyone else that had a _freaking___ broken __soulmark until she met Jane Foster. Dr. Jane's soulmark was in "Something vaguely similar to Old Norse Runes, they tell me. Except that they've never seen this dialect. Ever. Anywhere." That night, over beer and pizza, Darcy-the-intern and Jane-the-brain became friends, and probably the only two people on the planet with screwed up soulmarks.

And then Thor crash-landed here. After that, Darcy was back to being the only person she knew with a broken soulmark.

But, ever the optimist, she had hope. Somewhere out there was "dude who uses entirely too many b's in his greetings." Maybe he just had a mouth full of marbles when they met. Or a stutter. Or something.

As could probably be guessed, there was an accident in Jane's lab. And no, it wasn't a Code Green, and there had been no need to refer to SHIELD Form 7A WF 83429 pretty much ever. No, both of those situations would have been preferable to what actually, in fact, happened. Or so the "survivors" thought.

"Darcy, adjust the third oscilloscope 0.025 degrees, and then put it on full blast," said Jane. "We're ready for another try!"

Darcy made the requested adjustments, and stood up. "OOOF!"—she slipped, her body crossing the triangulated beam that the machines had created. And then she saw the most beautiful of rainbows. She tried to concentrate on the beautiful-but-terrifying experience, but before she had time to really process it, she hit something solid with a joint-jarring thud.

Legolas always thought there was something wrong with him. He'd been alive for centuries—__MILLENNIA__—and his soulmark had never appeared. It was an embarrassment to him, as if some of his attractiveness was lost as a result of not having a soulmark. While his mother had always told him that when his wife was born he would bear her words, to not lose hope, that his mark would appear as everyone's does, in due time, that he was handsome and loveable and of course he had a soulmate, and other such platitudes…. he had long since given up hope.

Until some three hundred years ago, Legolas thought that he was just a late bloomer. His childhood friend Rivaldir bore no soulmark until around that time, when his now-wife was born. He was with Rivaldir when his soulmark arose on his skin. Legolas remembers Rivaldir's gasp, how quickly he removed his tunic—in the middle of a hunt, no less, and the words that appeared on Rivaldir's skin, just below his left shoulderblade. The most banal of phrases, "Well met, Rivaldir of Mirkwood," yet more than Legolas had. Three hundred years after that day, and still he waited for the birth of his soulmate. His Princess.

He had considered sailing to Valinor—the Undying Lands—just to see if his soulmark would appear once he left the shores of Arda. But he felt no call to live there, and his father relied on him so much, especially with his mother gone, now.

And then one day, the strangest thing happened. He felt a burn along his chest, and when he adjusted his tunic to see what was going on, he was the most thrilled elf alive, to finally see the black lettering.

It was beautiful, laying just there under his collarbone.

Except, he couldn't read it. It wasn't in Tengwar. Or Quenya. Or any other script or language he knew of, or had been exposed to, and being alive for millennia and the son of a king, even in a secluded part of Arda… well it gives one a bit more perspective on things like language and culture.

Legolas was cut more deeply than any wound he had ever taken. When his mother left for Valinor, he had not hurt as sharply as he did in this instant. From the height of happiness to the depths of despair in mere seconds. For the first time since that fateful day when he bid his mother farewell, he felt tears come to his eyes.

Alone for so long. And now, broken. It just wasn't fair.

Twenty-five years later, he had made various justifications for the unreadableness of his soulmark. Perhaps she was a twin, and speaking in her twin language when they met. Perhaps she was part of a small, unknown tribe and thus no one ever heard of it.

Most times, he despaired of ever finding her.

Sometimes he tried to picture her. At twenty-five, she must be an adolescent. Was she all elbows and knees as he had been at that age, so long ago? Was her hair red or blonde or black? Did she enjoy music?

"__Of course she enjoys music, all elves enjoy music!__" he thought.

Darcy fell to the ground, laying right there in the middle of the bifrost scar created by her passage through space. She took deep gulps of breath, __I am so dizzy__, and soon was surrounded by a whole bunch of Hawkeye-wannabees. They looked like they were from some stupid Scandinavian band, all long, blonde hair and pale skin. Not sure what was up with the Peter Pan style clothes, though. Or maybe it was more Game of Thrones than Peter Pan, really.

"Whoa," she said, promptly fainting for the first time in her life.

The elves gingerly stepped into the bifrost scar, and after it was apparent that she would not be causing any trouble in her unconscious state, Rivaldir came forward and began checking for wounds and attempting to triage any damage.

And then he saw it. That piece of script, so like his friend's soulmark.

He pulled the young, and regrettably human, woman into his arms. "Fetch me a horse, she must be taken to the city. And one of you, advise your Prince to meet me in the healing chambers as soon as he can," said Rivaldir, swiftly mounting and riding to the capital.

Rivaldir brought her to an empty chamber, lay her down, and exited the room.

A few minutes later, Legolas approached. "Rivaldir, you asked for me after you found a woman in the woods? I don't understand."

Rivaldir caught his friend's confused cerulean gaze and said, "Show me your soulmark." Legolas complied, anxiously pulling his tunic away from his neck, his heart in his throat. "She bears a mark similar to your own. Specifically, to this part of yours," he said, pointing to the word "you" located directly underneath his collarbone.

Legolas turned from his friend and without another word, pushed open the door to the chamber.

Darcy was just beginning to come 'round after her exciting trip through the bifrost and being held at arrow-point. She blinked and sat up. A man was walking toward her, his steps more silent than even Natasha's. He sat down on the cot next to her, and said something beautiful. And completely not English.

Darcy's mind reeled. She began frustratedly pulling off bracelet after bracelet, and finally when her tired, confused mind could look at her soulmark, she shoved it at him and said, "Can you read this?"

In response, the man—well, the gorgeous and pointy-eared dude, really—he turned her wrist over and brushed his lips right where her soulmark ended. Totally hot move. __Whoa, dude's got game.__

Then, he said something else that was beautiful and completely incomprehensible. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, and Darcy saw it. Right there. In black and white, the script curving right there. __Can you read this?__

"It's you," she gasped.

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><p>Original Notes from <strong>Tamarama<strong> on AO3:

If anyone cares what he said, and I know you do, he said, "A star shines on the hour of our meeting." (Êl síla erin lû e-govaned vîn.) So that's what her soulmark says, except it's in Tengwar, and unless someone feels the need to make the calligraphy for that as fan art, I don't think we're really going to get the full effect of how screwed up it would be to be born into this universe and be the only person with Tengwar on them. Or the only elf with English on them, either.

And then the next time he spoke, he said "At last!" (Na vedui!).

Phrases and translations come from the best elvish website ever, .

Note from** Lady Viola**: Be sure to review for her!


	2. Chapter 2

Hello, all! Just a reminder, this is not written by me, but by the amazing **Tamarama** on AO3, and posted here with her permission. Make sure to review for her!

[Original Summary from AO3:] Darcy and Legolas try to overcome their differences, with varying degrees of success.

Notes from **Tamarama**: So just assume this is post-LOTR, because I decided it works better that way. Also, if you haven't seen the amazing calligraphy done by Zyrieen, you're missing out!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

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><p>Chapter 2: High Thievery<p>

Darcy and Legolas did the "Me Tarzan, you Jane" routine and figured out each other's names. The elves didn't remind her much of the ether-stealing dark elves, aside from racial comparisons between ears and hair and cheekbones. But the Legolas Elves, as Darcy called them–out loud because it's not like Legolas would understand her at this point—the Legolas Elves were sort of gentle looking. Softer. Rounded edges, despite the pointy bits.

Shortly after her first bath here, someone stole her dang clothes! __First my iPod, now my clothes—Am I the only person that was raised right in *any* universe?__ Darcy stood around in a towel (soft, but more sheet-like than you'd expect), gesturing at her body and then pantomiming putting on __pantsforThor'ssake__, making so much ruckus fussing at the maid that Darcy's Elf came through the door. He took one look at the situation, eyes widening, and walked right back out the door.

Gotta hand it to these elves, though, their reaction time is fantastic. The maid jumped in front of Darcy, throwing her arms wide before Darcy even knew the door was open.

__Usually when people are trying to shield my body with theirs, it's from something a little more sinister than my sort-of boyfriend's gaze. But whatevs. Culture.__

_T_he maid practically threw Darcy into a dress as the door shut. It was pretty, but it was like wearing a really finely made ballgown or something. It dragged a bit on the floor (apparently 5'3" is a little on the short side, here), her bosom was overflowing in it, and the laces at the back meant she needed help getting into and out of it. _**Bummer.**_

The things we do for love. Or at least, fated-yet-currently-still-just-potential love.

The maid left, and immediately a soft knock was heard on her door. "Come on in, the water's fine!" called Darcy, bouncing lightly on her bare feet.

Legolas entered, but he left the door open behind him. He said more pretty words, something about them making Darcy feel a bit shivery, and walked toward her. And then he stopped. And he smiled. And said something else.

Her stolen clothing forgotten, Darcy had a flash of inspiration. She pushed out her wrist to him again, the one bearing her soulmark. "Say it again," she said, making a little puppet out of her hand and pantomiming speech with it and looking pointedly at her soulmark.

"Êl síla erin lû e-govaned vîn," he said, his fingers very, very gently holding her wrist still. Darcy laughed and said, "El cilla aaron loo…"

"…E-govaned vîn," he said, rubbing his thumb across the spot where the mark ended, her pulse leaping, and the smallest of mischievous smiles gracing the lips of Legolas. "Eh go-vann id viiin," Darcy repeated a bit breathily. __This dude must have serious pheromones going on. I don't even like blonds. Well, except for Thorlicious. And Cap'n Tight Armor. And really, aren't they exceptions to everyone's rules?__

"I have another idea," said Darcy, pointing at her collarbone. "Show me your soulmark again," she said, then pointing at him.

He blushed as he complied. __That's so cute. He kinda reminds me of Cap right now.__

"It says, 'Can you read this?' Can __Legolas __read this? You, Legolas. I, Darcy…." And several minutes of pantomime later, Darcy and Legolas could each say "I read. Darcy reads. You read. Legolas reads," in their respective languages.

Legolas and Darcy spent the next day walking around the forest and the palatial caverns that Legolas called home. They shared words and language. Darcy kept a mostly one-sided conversation going partly because she was naturally talkative, and partly because she was a little nervous and intimidated by the whole "meeting her soulmate" thing. And it didn't help that he was a different species than herself.

Darcy would say a word in English, make her little hand puppet and pantomime speech, and Legolas knew it was his turn to share his language. So far they had expanded upon the original vocabulary that they had, and had branched into other verbs, and even some adjectives. Sun, sky, cloud. Grass, water, tree, flower. Legolas is tall and blond, and Darcy is short and brunette. __See Spot? See Spot Run?__ Legolas is very handsome, and he blushed when Darcy informed him that he was handsome, her eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

It was during a walk through the forest that they came upon the bifrost scar. Darcy thought she could teach Legolas the word for scar, and began pointing at an old cooking scar from her childhood when a burst of energy came from the bifrost scar, and none other than Thor himself stood there.

"THOR!" Darcy squealed, bounding toward him, only to have her forward momentum stopped by an elvish foot on the back of her ridiculously long dress. Turning to look at what her dress snagged on, her sorta-boyfriend was in full hottie-pants archer mode, saying "Darcy, [something elvish] me."

"Whoa, whoa, stand down, soldier!" she said, finally pushing his bow down and saying, "No!" like she would correct a recalcitrant dog.

"Lady Darcy, if I may have a word?" said Thor, his hands up in a deceptively submissive posture.

"Just a minute, I gotta get the boyfriend to calm down a little bit. Can you just hang out there for a second and keep your hands up while I try to explain the situation? He doesn't speak English."

Thor responded, "[something elvish]." Legolas and Thor exchanged words, meanwhile Darcy shoved Legolas off of her dress, went over to Thor, and gave him a high-five in greeting.

"So why you here, big man?"

"Jane was most upset by your disappearance, Lady Darcy. She bid me to have Heimdall find you, and once he did, I made provisions and came here."

"So you ever been to this realm before? How do you speak his lingo?"

"Ahh that is what I was hoping to share with you. When I began traveling between realms, my mother crafted a potion that would allow me to communicate with all inhabitants of all the realms. While I have never been here before, I speak his language…and all languages."

"So you're going to help me with my elvish lessons?"

Thor fished around in a bag, bringing up a blue-green corked bottle about the size of his pinky. He threw the bottle to Darcy, but it was intercepted by the quick reflexes of Legolas .__How did he even get here so fast?____Wait a minute…is he a superhero, too? __More words were exchanged between Legolas and Thor, and finally, Legolas uncorked the bottle and drank from it himself.

Moments later, Legolas said, "I do not know if it had the desired effect. Perhaps elvish bodies do not work the same as human ones?"

"I think it worked just fine, hot shot."

Legolas smiled beatifically, "Yes." Darcy briefly thought, __You can take the elvish out of the language, but you can't take the elvish out of the elf__, because he still sounded…shivery.

"So you can understand me perfectly, now?"

"Yes."

"Great. Now, can I have my pants back?"

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><p>Notes: I hope you enjoyed it. This was something I was working on for a few minutes and then I received the notification that <strong>StarkidDreamer<strong> had the same idea, so in honor of great minds thinking alike, this chapter is dedicated to her. Give me some more ammunition, if you want. :) Although, I think this is a good "ending" if it ends up that way, too. Also, I could probably use a beta.


	3. Chapter 3

Note from **Lady Viola**: Remember, this is not my work, but the work of the phenomenal **Tamarama **on AO3, put here with her permission. Be sure to review for her!

[Original Summary from AO3]: So one time an elf, a demi-god, and a young woman went on a series of walks in the forest. Notes: My beta is awesome and you should read her tumblr because her efforts are much superior to my own. There's a particularly nice bucky x darcy on there that I enjoyed recently, so you should enjoy that. In other words, thanks to my beta, whose AO3 name I do not know. She's sort of the Cyrano to my Christian. (See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

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><p>Chapter 3: Sometimes a Cigar is Just a Cigar<p>

Darcy was uncertain how many of the elves were aware of that she was paired with their prince. It made her uncomfortable to be around them. With the language barrier—__Thanks for hogging the AllSpeak juice, Leggy__—she couldn't tell if they were gossiping about her or not. It was sort of like getting a pedicure at one of those strip mall nail salons. The workers, chatting away in an unknown language, are they discussing their patrons or the TV show playing in the corner? The elves, chatting away in their silvery, musical language—are they talking about their human and demi-godly guests, or whether to serve the yellow or white cheese at dinner tonight?

It was lovely to listen to the elves speak, though. Even Thor sounded musical, albeit it was more like a tuba in the woodwind section.

But, perhaps to get away from the watchful eyes of his brethren, Legolas had taken to inviting Darcy—and Thor—to walk among the trees of Mirkwood. Thor was a welcome presence, his familiar, bombastic personality taking the edge off of the nervousness of being in a new place, with her soulmate nonetheless. And it was nice to speak more privately, even if sometimes the conversation grew a bit awkward.

"You're…"_kidding___ me__. "Pulling my leg, right?" Darcy asked incredulously upon finding out her intended was __freaking immortal__.

The Elf looked at her, wishing (and not for the first time, he'd have to admit) that she were at least an adaneth of his world. "No."

Thor boomed out, "Lady Darcy, it is unlike you to be quite so dense. The Lady Jane and I are bound, and while I am not immortal, I have a much longer lifespan than my beloved Jane. And Jane is Mannish, as you are."

"Dude, for future reference, I wouldn't call Jane "Mannish" where she can hear you if you don't want to sleep on the couch."

Conversation drifted onto various topics, including Legolas's and Thor's various feats of derring-do. Darcy was pleased that the taser story still made it into Thor's rotation of stories. As a result of all the male posturing, they decided to have a footrace, and Darcy was wrangled into it.

Bad idea.

Lacking a five-hook sports bra and the finest compression shirt UnderArmour makes, running in her elven dress resulted in having to hold her bosom down so it didn't jump out, while holding the dress up so she didn't trip. __I hope no one is looking over their shoulder, this is ridiculous.__ Plus, she hadn't had so much physical activity since, well, the last time she helped save the world.

She reached the 'finish line,' panting and leaning against a tree, breathlessly saying, "Leggy, you've got to let me win sometimes, or I won't want to play. Us human girls are like that." And she fanned herself with her hand, not thinking anything of it. That is, until her intended—err, fated-but-potential intended—turned those limpid blue eyes on her and asked so nicely, "Darcy, it would please me greatly if you would call me by my name…and no other."

Darcy thought, __I'm probably the weirdest person alive because, oh, dude, talk __**_**fancy **_**__to me.__

Then he muttered something apologetic-sounding to a tree, and plucked a leaf from it. The backs of his fingers brushed over her palm as he placed it in her grasp, "My name is Legolas Thranduilion. Legolas means 'green leaf.' Thranduilion, 'son of Thranduil.'" He gave her another one of those small smiles of his that caused her heart to thump in her chest.

After that, she just didn't have the heart to mess with his name, unlike her relationship with every single other person ever, and found herself repeating his name because she liked the way the sounds felt in her mouth. Alien, yes, but new and good. "Leg-o-las Th-ran-doo-illy-on" she mouthed later that night in her bedroom, spinning the leaf in her fingers. Because, it's totally normal to keep it.

Totally.

The next day dawned bright and sunny, and thanks to Legolas it had 100% more pants than the prior day. The trio went on another walk, winding their way through the various caverns that made up the palace, and coming out a completely different exit than the prior excursion.

Things were going well, Darcy thought. There was a lot to work out—immortality, gender roles in their respective societies, __not being the same freaking species __(talk about inter-racial dating!)—but at the same time, there was certainly the potential for more there. He was sweet and gentle. And apparently a hero in his own right, and relatively unimpressed by one of the most impressive super heroes of her acquaintance. There's nothing more attractive than confidence.

Legolas gave Darcy a lot of little trinkets and tchotchkes. He'd hand her an acorn, or share a few berries with her, meanwhile directing Thor to the bush to pick his own. At one point he sang a song, which was a very Zen experience for Darcy.

However, Legolas was a bit confused as to whether he held Darcy's affections as well. She thanked him prettily enough for the berries, seemed a bit confused by the acorn—although she did put it in her pocket—and entered a meditative state during his song, which, admittedly, was never his favorite way of impressing the ellith. On the other hand, she touched him quite a bit, almost like the punctuation to a sentence. But, then again, she touched Thor often, too, and in the same manner. The situation caused some small amount of angst and turmoil in the normally serene elf.

The communication trouble must have been fairly obvious to the third member of their party, because sometime later, Thor spoke up. "Lady Darcy, if I might have a word," he asked. Darcy turned to Legolas, who bowed slightly and disappeared into the trees.

"What's up, big guy?"

"I thought we could have a moment of conversation." Thor seemed a bit awkward. It was a good look on him. "I felt we should speak regarding your soulmate and his efforts at courting you."

"Courting me? I thought we were more in the "getting to know you" phase. Sort of like a Middle Earth coffee date."

"Hardly. Legolas has been quite obvious, I think. Among the immortal peoples I have known, there are generally two approaches to courtship. There is the spirited version we enjoy in Asgard…and then there is what we see among these elves. Were you an elf-maid, you would not be wrong to be angry with the haste with which Legolas has pursued you."

"Really? Because I was starting to wonder if he was into me like that, like maybe we were the platonic type of soulmates after all. You know, the BFFs to end all BFFs." Darcy gave Thor a wry, crooked smile at that thought.

Thor laughed, "No, Darcy. Among his people, I suspect that Legolas would be considered rather forward. Now, in Asgard, when soul-mates find one other, we give our intended a __hlutr__. A __hlutr __is an item, a sort of relic that typically worn about the person, to show the parties' intentions toward one another. It is a token of affection, and of intention. While this is not Asgard, the things he gives you, the pieces of the land he grew on, are as good as pieces of himself; reminders of trees he climbed on as an elfling and fields he traversed as an adult."

Darcy eyed Thor suspiciously, "So an acorn is more than an acorn?"_ S___ometimes a cigar is just a cigar__.

Thor nodded sagely, "Indeed, it is not merely an acorn. Consider what an acorn is: it is a seed, the spark of life which begins a mighty oak. While it takes months for an acorn to sprout, eventually a tree is the result. Truly, it is the metaphor for new beginnings. You should consider asking him to help you plant it."

"Gah, I haven't had this much metaphor usage since my English Lit class. "Kafka's use of the cockroach is a metaphor for the pain of human suffering" or some trash like that." Darcy ended her frustrated little rant and turned to her friend. "So what about the leaf? And the berries? And the song?"

Thor looked at Darcy as if, perhaps, he had misjudged her intelligence this entire time. "I think that perhaps the answers are obvious, and you merely wish to hear the words."

Darcy crossed her arms across her chest. "Humor me, then."

Thor sighed. "The leaf is the most obvious. It is the object from which his name is derived, thus, he is giving you a representation of himself." Darcy nodded. That one wasn't super-subtle. "The berries are a traditional gift, even on Earth, albeit they are the most platonic of the offerings he has given you—he is sharing food, sustenance, with you. He is taking care of you, giving you the choicest berries upon the bush and ensuring that you know no hunger. By offering it to you before taking his own, he shows a deference to your wishes and a willingness to share what he has with you. The act has more significance than the fruit itself."

Thor ran a frustrated hand through his hair, "Do you honestly not know these things, or are you 'pulling my leg'?"

Darcy said, "Hey, I'm used to deconstructing what a guy means by waiting to call for two and a half days after our first date, rather than the full three days. This whole," Darcy gestured wildly at the forest, "elvish courting thing, or courtly courting thing—it's just not as straightforward as I'm used to." Thor seemed somewhat appeased by her explanation.

"So you were about to tell me about the song?"

"Yes. Well, the song was about the joy of the forest and at being alive and enjoying the beauty and the mysteries of the forest. You fell asleep in the middle, but it was for your benefit that he sang. I suspect he finds you both beautiful and mysterious, as he does the forest."

"Man, this is so meta." Darcy pushed her hair out of her eyes. "You mind being my Legolas-decoder ring, bud?"

"Of course not."

"Good. Because, if he gives me any more leafy presents, I'm gonna need the down low."

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><p>Notes: Hlutr actually translates to "thing." I used the google, it might be wrong. Thanks again to my beta, you should still follow her tumblr because she's better than me at this and because drabbles are fun. darcylewis-intern-extraordinaire . tum blr . c o m [remove spaces] Tune in next time for Dinner with Thranduil.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

**Note from Viola: **Remember, this is the work of the wonderful Tamarama on A03, abridged and posted here with her permission. Make sure to leave a review for her!

Original summary from A03: Archery and Dinner with Thranduil.

Notes from Tamarama: Thanks to the lovely ladies who I had beta this for me, BairnSidhe and Lady Viola Delesseps. BairnSidhe wrote this fantastic Kili/OFC Post-BOFA AU that I love by name of "All Those Who Wander." You can also find her on a super-friendly tumblrof the same name. Lady Viola wrote this fantastic fanfiction, Lady of The Lake, which is a journal fic written from the perspective of Sigrid, Bard's daughter. It's pretty fascinating.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

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><p>Legolas rejoined his companions, and together they continued their walk. They came upon a clearing, one set up with a multitude of targets at various distances.<p>

Thor noticed this before Darcy did, because Darcy was, of course, checking out Legolas's rear. __I don't usually like 'em thin, but ...__

"Darcy?" interrupted the object of her ogling.

"Hmm?" she said, inanely, barely removing her gaze from his now-in-profile figure.

"My lightning-sister, did you not hear my challenge? I suggested a bit of sport. We shall practice with these targets!" whooped Thor, joyfully.

"What, like Legolas uses his bow and you use Mew-Mew, and I use my rapier wit? Doesn't seem fair when one of those is magical."

Thor looked affronted, "I would never use a magical weapon in a contest with only mundane weapons, Darcy."

"Really? Because I __totally__ would." Darcy grinned.

Thor shook his head at her. "For shame! Such behavior is beneath you, friend."

"Please, how many opportunities is this girl going to have to use magical weapons in her life? We're batting at zero so far, although I did use Mew Mew as a bookrest when you left her on the couch."

"The Mighty Mjolnir is not a 'her.' Surely a hammer is not feminine."

"Mew Mew sounds pretty girly to me."

Legolas interjected, "There are, of course, a selection of bows over here," pointing to a small "building" built into the tree. Darcy marveled for a moment, wondering if it were a symbiotic relationship between the tree and the builder or if it was some kind of magic, or if it was just "something elf-y." To be honest, a lot of things were just "something elf-y," these days.

Darcy smiled wryly. "Yeah, you might have guessed but, I don't play when I know I can't win. And given all your tales of derring-do, and Thor's general __joie de vivre__, I think it's almost guaranteed I'm going to lose any sort of challenge. It's not like I know anything about bows or arrows, other than that the pointy end of the arrow goes in the bad guy."

Legolas's eyebrow moved upward infinitesimally. Maybe. Hard to say, elves aren't the most expressive of peoples. "Perhaps the joy of learning is enough to entice you to practice as well?"

"Hmm..." Darcy pondered theatrically "...Nope. Not yet, anyway. But I like where you're going with this 'enticing' thing. So maybe if you sweeten the pot, I'll come play, too." Darcy gave him a cheeky grin.

Legolas approached her on silent feet. His hand came forward, and Darcy's breath caught-for a moment Darcy thought he was going to stroke her cheek. Instead, his hand brushed through a lock of her hair, pulling it lightly. Darcy turned her face upward, and her weight rocked onto her toes, swaying toward him slightly. Legolas held up his hand, and a moth rose from it. __Oh__. Legolas murmured something Elvish-rather, something Sindarin-at the moth, and Darcy wondered if she had ever been quite so disappointed in all her life.

"Perhaps I can teach you a bit of archery, and you can teach me some skill of yours?"

Darcy sighed loudly, "The things I do for your affection, Legolas. Let's do this."

Thus began an hour of archery training. Posture, breathing, aiming, releasing. Over and over, Legolas would correct her stance just slightly, or sight the arrow with her. The tiniest, slightest possible touches, never lingering overlong, but definitely personal. Darcy was previously unaware of how many nerve endings were along the undersides of her arms. That was the trick, really. This awareness of him in relation to herself. The wind carried his hair to her cheek, along with his own scent of leather and mint and something …elf-y.

Meanwhile, Thor was practicing himself, albeit with little attention from the couple. Of course, the Son of the Allfather was versed in all weapons including bows—but Mjolnir had been given to him so long ago that it was less of a weapon and more an extension of himself.

"Okay, my arms are jelly. We're going to have to take a break here. Go show Thor what you're made of, Legolas." Darcy sat on a fallen log while two of the most handsome creatures she'd ever met squared off against one another.

The elf and the demi-god shot at progressively further targets. At first, they appeared evenly matched, but as the distance grew, Thor's shots began drifting from the bullseye. Darcy, what with her astigmatism, couldn't see the arrows without squinting a bit, so she was impressed that either had managed to actually hit the target, much less hit the center or near-center. She cheered for both of them, made up silly cheers and chants—"Thor, Thor, he's Jane's man, if he can't do it, he'll try again!" and "Nothing rhymes with Legolas; He's kind of a snuffleuffagas!" being two fine examples of her on-the-spot cheerleading.

After all the targets had been tested, Thor conceded the victory to Legolas and suggested that their friend Clint might be a better competitor for one of Legolas's skill. Then the three went and cleaned up the mess they had made of the practice range. Once they were done, Legolas explained that they needed to head back in order to get ready for dinner. It was at this point that Darcy discovered that she would be dining with Legolas's father, King Thranduil Oropherion, the Elven King of Mirkwood. (Albeit, the forest was in a cleansing process and they preferred the Greenwood name, even if it wasn't entirely accurate yet.)

After depositing Thor outside his door, Legolas escorted her back to her chambers, and left with a small bow and a small smile. Moments later, her maid—Forndis was her name—came in, followed by three other elves, all carrying buckets of water. They filled the tub, and exited, except for Forndis, who was surprisingly good at stripping a protesting Darcy naked, scrubbing her down, washing her hair and drying her off—all very matter-of-factly. She was put in a robe while Forndis squeezed the water out of her hair. After sufficient dryness had been achieved, Forndis braided the top away from her face, and brushed the rest out. Then she threw her into an underdress and another gown. This one was the appropriate length although the bosom situation wasn't much better than in the prior gown. In fairness, though, Darcy had found that the bosom situation hadn't been much better since she was about fourteen. The color was a rosy shade that did a lot for Darcy's complexion, especially considering she hadn't seen a tube of mascara or lipstick in a couple of days.

Finally, she was all ready to go, and she had just finished giving the dress an inaugural twirl when a light knock sounded at her door.

Opening the door and finding Legolas, who had changed to a light green tunic, Darcy said, "So it's that time, huh?"

"Indeed."

"Well, here's hoping he doesn't hate me."

"We shall find out soon enough." __Not the most reassuring words…__

They were presented to the King beforehand. Darcy was glad of the presence of Thor—when he kneeled, she kneeled. When he spoke, she pretended to understand and gave her most charming smile. After a few words of greeting, the visitors and the two-member royal family adjourned to the dining room.

Dinner was formal, which was expected. She was seated to the left of Legolas, who was next to his father. Thor sat across from Legolas. To Thor's right, and across from Darcy, sat an elf from the welcome wagon of armed-and-dangerous elves. After Darcy was seated, that elf began speaking to Legolas.

"Darcy, Thor, this is my friend Rivaldir and his wife Duineth." Thor introduced himself in perfect Sindarin, perfectly incomprehensible to Darcy.

"Pleased to meet you, Rivaldir and Duineth," said Darcy. Legolas translated, and Rivaldir gave her a tiny bow with his hand over his heart. Darcy gave a finger-wave.

Rivaldir chattered, and Legolas said, "He says that he is glad that he found you and recognized your mark as similar to my own. Then he embarrasses me by pointing out that I waited a very long time for you to come."

"What, this?" asked Darcy, raising her left wrist. "This is a tattoo I had made when I was fifteen. My soulmark, which I was born with, it's on the other wrist." Darcy raised her right wrist at the end. Legolas translated to Rivaldir, whose expression changed subtly. Darcy wasn't sure what the expression shift meant, though, because as the last couple of days proved, elves were hard to read.

"What does this even mean, anyway?" Darcy waved her arm around as a swarm of elves started filling glasses and delivering plates.

"It says 'a star shines on the hour of our meeting.'" Legolas replied. "And mine means something about reading?"

"It says 'Can you read this?'" Darcy grinned up at Legolas, who beamed back at her. "Which is funny, because no one here could read your soulmark, so you're asking, literally, the world if they can read your soulmark, but they can't. And me asking you if you could read mine is what caused your soulmark to say that in the first place."

The King spoke, interrupting their moment. Thranduil's expression was languid. "He asks why you marked yourself," translated Legolas.

"Long story short, children are cruel and my soulmark is weird-at least for where I'm from. So, I started wearing a series of bracelets and bangles and cuffs over it to avoid teasing from my peers. I saved up some money, went to a tattoo shop, and had a very visible fake soulmark put on in my native language. Why did I mark myself? Because it is absolutely horrible to be the only person whose soulmate can't possibly exist, and for everyone else to know that fact too is a special kind of misery." Darcy took a sip of the very stout red wine that was in front of her. __Whoo boy, Tony would do anything to get some of this. I wonder if I can bring some home.__

Legolas paused a moment, "I understand. I was the eldest Blank for a very long time, and then once my soulmark appeared, I was unable to rejoice as many do due to the unknown language of my soulmark. Still, I am happy that you have come here, by whatever means." He smiled his soft smile at her again. "I will admit that in part, it is nice to know that my soulmark was not broken after all."

Thranduil shifted in his seat, possibly a sign of impatience, and Legolas began translating the conversation to him. The King picked up his wine glass, gave it a lazy turn, and said something else.

Surprisingly, Rivaldir responded, the only word Darcy understood was "Legolas." Thranduil responded at length, in a voice that could not be described as pleasant, and Darcy could swear that his eyebrow had moved infinitesimally upward. Whatever he was nattering on about, it was enough that Thor shot a stormy look at the King, and Darcy felt the air pressure changing, as precipitates a change in the weather.

"Hey, big guy, whatever's going on, I'm a big girl. I can take it. Calm down." Darcy looked back at Legolas, "So what's your dad's deal?"

Sighing, Legolas translated again, "Father says that it is unfortunate that the pride of the elves, the last elvish prince in Arda, a member of the Fellowship that felled Sauron and heralded the end of the Third Age, would find himself bound to a mortal woman. Rivaldir said that it was not unprecedented, that there were several Elf and Man couples prior to our own. Father said that all those stories ended in tragedy."

"What, like, Romeo and Juliet?"

Legolas looked at her blankly. __Shoot, pop culture reference.__

"Umm, it's a story where I come from of these two people who were soulmarked by one another and they fell madly in love with each other and wanted to marry. Except their families wouldn't let them be together because the families were feuding. So the couple arranged to trick everyone into thinking they were dead, but it didn't work out right so they killed themselves rather than being apart." __Trying to work two weeks of high school English Literature into a couple of sentences ain't easy.__

Legolas looked at her, "That is very tragic, indeed." He sighed, "In order to convey what Father and Rivaldir are attempting to convey would take a good bit of discussion. Suffice it to say that there have been four Elf/Man intermarriages, one near-marriage, and you and I, ever. These are rare relationships, but we are not unprecedented by any means."

Darcy pointed out, "It's such a small sample size compared to the overall elf and human populations that really there's no comparison anyway. Tragic or not—and I intend for "not"—these are the cards that we've been dealt, and I, for one, am not unhappy about finding you after all this time." Darcy gestured, "And I'm not about to let anyone's prejudices against our little Loving v. Virginia relationship get to me."

Darcy paused, and then looked over at the King, "And you know what else? With all due respect, it's really not smart to try to alienate a matched couple, or either of its members."

Darcy picked up her wine glass and muttered, "I am not nearly drunk enough for this level of rubbish."

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><p>Notes from Tamarama: Two big notes: -ElfHuman intermarriages are a BIG deal, and for those of you who want to know more about these other couples, they are: Luthien/Beren, Tuor/Idril, Mithreallas/Imrazor (ancestor of Imrahil/Lothiriel), and of course Arwen/Aragorn.  
>In the "SO SAD" column, we have AegnorAndreth-the only ellon (male elf)/adaneth (female regular human. And by regular I mean "not a dunedain") pairing.

Loving v. Virginia is the United States Supreme Court case that ended anti-interracial marriage (anti-miscegenation) laws in the US. Prior to Loving, (what a great case name) it was, in Virginia, CRIMINAL to marry or have sex outside ones' race. Yeah, that's how screwed up we were less than 50 years ago, folks. And I knew that because the only thing that Darcy and I have in common is a solid background in political science.


	5. Chapter 5

**The work of Tamarama, cross-posted from A03 with her permission.**

Chapter 5: Decision-Making Skills

Summary: The aftermath of "meeting the in-laws," Legolas learns a bit about "Midgard," and important decisions are made.

Notes: Thanks to Lady Viola, who is a very kind friend to read another chapter this soon. You should check out some of her work over on Fanfiction ! Thank you to my commenters; you guys make my days brighter.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

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><p>The not-entirely disastrous meal finally drew to a close. Rivaldir and his wife desperately tried to carry the conversation into lighter areas after the conversation had devolved into the interrogation of Darcy. Some part of Thranduil just didn't seem to get it that no one here chose this reality. It's not like Darcy woke up one morning and said, "You know what would be awesome? If I could be soulmarked by a Prince. Who is two thousand years older than me. And a different race. And, oh, he lives on a completely different planet." <em><em>God help us if we split up. Our kids would have the most awkward Heimdall-induced parenting plan. <em>_ Not to mention that they hadn't, as of yet, declared any intentions.

So it should come as no surprise that the first thing Darcy said to Legolas as soon as they were alone in a drawing room was, "… Forget your Dad's opinions, Legolas. Because this is about you and me, you know?" __  
><em>_

Legolas was standing, looking at a painting of the forest outside the protective caverns in which he and many other elves dwelt. "He was in rare form tonight. I cannot excuse his behavior, other than to say that he has had scarce interactions with mortals, and those few dealings were infamous for how poorly they went. I must wonder if the visit would have gone any better if you were an elleth."

Darcy snorted, "I'm not sure that I want to know if your dad is just an overprotective—" Darcy cut herself off before what she had intended to say slipped out and coughed, "Err, an overprotective jerk—or a racist jerk." __I think I had about two sips too much as apparently my inner censor, such as it is, is slightly broken.__

Legolas laughed lightly, the sound causing gooseflesh to suddenly arise on Darcy's arms. __Mental note: awesome laugh. Also, laughs at mean-spirited observations about his dad. I can work with that.__

Emboldened by the 'two sips too many', Darcy impulsively burst out with "-Listen, I've been thinking about this and I thought that maybe we could talk about what happens next with us." Legolas turned to Darcy, eyes questioning, waiting for her to continue. She took a breath and plunged in. "I have to go home before too much longer, I have responsibilities there that aren't being met, and I have a family that's probably worried about me, and … I'd really like you to come with me. But I don't expect you to answer immediately—I don't think that'd be fair. Sooooo, why don't you think about it tonight, and we'll talk about the specifics of it in the morning?"

Legolas smiled gently, and bowed his head toward her. "My lady is as wise as she is beautiful, I see." Darcy blushed and grinned up at him. __Oh, smooth talker, Shakespeare-style. He's got game. It's just a really different game than the one I'm used to playing. __

Legolas walked Darcy back to her door, and stood facing her for a moment. He picked up her hand and ran a long, elegant thumb over her knuckles. "If it would please my lady, I would escort you to breakfast in the morning?" He asked, his eyes blue and kind and hopeful.

"Sure, sounds great."

Legolas chuckled lightly. "Pleasant dreams, then, Darcy."

Darcy smiled at the tall, blond and handsome elf, looking over him and trying to imprint his features in her mind. Finely arched eyebrows, high cheekbones, dark blue eyes, and exotic pointed ears that she found most ... intriguing. "Sweet dreams, Legolas."

Legolas brushed a kiss over her knuckles, bowed, and left, continuing along the hall toward his own chambers. As he approached Thor's door, he heard the bombastic demi-god's voice from within. "Legolas! Please, join me, friend!"

Legolas entered Thor's suite. As a visiting dignitary, he had the nicest guest chambers available, complete with sitting room. After Thor waved him into a chair, Legolas sat down, "Yes, friend?" he asked.

"How goes it, Legolas?" Thor asked.

"I am well. And you?" Legolas responded, politely waiting for the reason he had been called into Thor's room. Elves are nothing if not patient.

"I am very well, thank you. I felt that I should speak to you as I plan on taking my leave from your company and your world before long," said Thor.

"Darcy as well, I think." said Legolas.

Thor looked at him, trying to guess how Legolas felt about such a thing. "I am surprised that she would leave so soon. Are things going well, Legolas?"

Legolas smiled, "I believe that they are. She asked me to accompany her, but bid me to answer tomorrow as she felt it unfair to ask me to make a quick decision."

Thor boomed, joyfully, "Oh, that is most good news, my friend! She would not ask if she did not want you to come, in truth!" Thor's excitement wore off quickly as he began thinking of all the differences between Middle Earth and Midgard…it had been a lot to take in for one once revered as a god there, and to throw Legolas into the wilds of New York City with only Darcy and himself there to help him acclimate. . . . "Perhaps you have questions about Midgard?"

Legolas thought for a moment, "I am unsure where to start. It seems that our worlds are as different as night from day."

Nodding, Thor said, "Indeed, Middle Earth and Midgard have much in common, but much is different. They know only the race of Men there, while of course there are animals and plants. The continents are vast. The cities are huge. Horses are not used for travel, all that is done by various types of machines. The people of Midgard are most clever with their use of machines."

Thor thought a moment, "But all that, while overwhelming, is merely a different way of accomplishing the same task. The real differences are in things like government and customs."

"What do you mean?" asked Legolas, anxiously. What if he had not lived up to Darcy's expectations? What if she found him a poor suitor already? What if—

"There are few Kings left there. Darcy's country, America, has no King and it needs no King." Legolas's lip quirked, expecting Thor to start talking about a Steward. "America has a President. Who is elected by the people, and serves a term of years. All their government is elected in this manner. It is a most curious thing, so curious that Darcy devoted several years of her life to the study of this manner of governance." Legolas gasped slightly. The idea of allowing something as base and as fickle as public sentiment to determine the direction of an entire kingdom—rather, an entire country—was most perverse. Somehow this "voting" thing didn't make it into their prior conversations.

"Families are different, too. Both parents often work for wages. Divorces are regarded as unfortunate, but they are common. Perhaps most importantly, young women are not chaperoned while they are being courted…and to that extent, one might regard courtships as much more expedient than those to which you might be familiar."

Divorces…no chaperones… what a world in which Darcy lived! She surely needed his help to navigate such a treacherous place. Legolas thanked the Valar that his soulmate had been lucky enough to survive such an ordeal. Poor Darcy.

The Elf must have looked a bit worried, or the elvish version of anxious, as Thor continued, "Darcy, of course, is a most formidable warrior herself, having bested me with my own element! Fear not, Legolas. She is most capable. I hope you will come. Darcy and I have a most impressive array of friends, and I know you will enjoy meeting them. Should you decide to come to Midgard, I will go and prepare the way for you two. I doubt anyone expects Darcy to return from this adventure with her soulmate, much less an elvish one."

Legolas rose from the chair, "Thank you, Thor. Your counsel has been most helpful and I shall reflect upon your words."

Thor escorted him to the door, "You are most welcome, friend Legolas. I hope to celebrate your arrival in Midgard at your convenience."

The men said their goodnights and parted. Then Legolas continued down the hallway to his room, where he spent the evening pondering the decision that lay before him.

Darcy woke up in plenty of time for breakfast, and her maid tried to shove her in another gown. __No. Way.__ Forndis pointed at the dress and then pointed at Darcy, and Darcy pantomimed putting on pants again. Then Forndis would point at the dress. At that point Darcy just kept saying one word, over and over. "Legolas." Forndis pointed at the dress again. And Darcy invoked the name of Legolas again. Finally, Darcy was about to leave the room in her nightgown and robe to find the elf in question when Forndis apparently decided to play nice. __Hah, she's worried some dude is going to see my feet! GASP! My week-old pedi is going to make the ellyn hot under the collar!__

"Legolas," said Forndis, gesturing that Darcy should stay put. Darcy shooed her out the door.

Moments later, Darcy's Elf knocked upon the door. "My lady?" asked Legolas, quizzically. "You sent for me?" Forndis had come with all due haste, frustrated that Darcy would not get dressed again.

Darcy's blood pressure dropped at the sight of him. "Yes. She keeps trying to put me in __that thing__ and I want to wear my pants."

Legolas and Forndis chatted a moment, and Forndis disappeared, leaving the door partly open behind her. "Your pants are being laundered, Darcy, so she could not put you in them."

Darcy almost stomped her foot in frustration, "Does this mean I'm going to have to wear another gown like that today?"

Just then, Forndis came in the room, bearing a bundle of cloth. Legolas took the clothes from her and walked toward Darcy, "Does this meet with your approval, my lady?"

Darcy looked and a pair of leggings that were way, way too long for her and a tunic shirt were offered to her. "Are there some scissors so I can cut the legs off the pants? They're too long."

"Yes, you may alter them to your heart's content. I shall leave you to it then. I will return soon and we shall break our fast."

Darcy grinned, "See you in a bit."

Forndis, turns out, was a dab hand at sewing and cut and hemmed the pants so that they fit her length-wise in just a few minutes. The tunic wasn't the most comfortable thing she'd ever worn, mostly because it was a bit tight in the chest and had precisely zero stretch. Still, it was better than wearing another dress to trip on. Darcy was still mildly surprised that she hadn't just flipped rear-over-teakettle during that footrace.

Finally ready to go, she waited for her "escort." She giggled, thinking of Legolas as a male escort, and then began humming to herself.

Legolas knocked on the door, and tucking her fingers into his arm, escorted her to a smaller table in a different dining—or perhaps breakfast—room. They shared an impressive quiche-like dish, and talked about their various educations: Legolas and his tutors that taught him his letters and the masters-at-arms that taught him the bow, Darcy and her years of high school and undergrad, and her secret desire to go to graduate school, perhaps in public policy or public administration. A scientist-wrangler is a bit of a dead-end job, after all. __How do you even put that on a resume? "Ensured people ate at least one vegetable a day. Colluded with Artificial Intelligence to prevent more than 16 hours of straight working."__

Finally, they rose from the table and began a serene walk, Darcy having gorged herself a bit too much for vigorous walking. They came to a garden with a small fountain and some benches scattered about. Darcy stood near the fountain. "You know, where I come from people throw a coin into a fountain and make a wish."

"For what would you wish, then?" Legolas asked.

"Hmm… I'm not sure." __Maybe to live forever. Or to have Tony's money. Or both.__ "Have you thought about coming back with me?"

Legolas picked up her hand. "I would not wish to be parted from you so soon."

Darcy gave his fingers a little squeeze. "I'm glad. And we can come back from time-to-time; I'm sure I can get some kind of work share thing going with Tony. But seriously, my parents were probably called and told I was in a lab accident, they're probably freaking out, my brother is probably flipping out…err, overreacting. And I kind of work with a motley crew of …extraordinary people… who need my help." Darcy smiled, "Plus, you'll get to experience my world, which is a lot different than this one."

Darcy looked up at him, "So you're sure you'll come, then?"

Legolas gazed down at the brunette. "Yes, I must prepare for my departure, of course. It will take no more than a week, I should hope."

"Great! Imma tell Thor, because this is on like Donkey Kong!"

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><p>Notes: A few notes: ***Thank you so much for reading, kudosing, and especially commenting!*** -I'm really good with constructive criticism, so feel free to say "Hey, this worked" or "this didn't". Or, "You know what would be great, is if..." Tune in next time for a visit with Tauriel! Will she be jealous? Angsty? Supportive? Kind? Insta-BFF's with Darcy? Only time will tell!<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

**By Tamarama, on AO3, cross-posted here with her permission.**

Tamarama: Thanks to KathySinister, author of Fic, Darcy Lewis and the Week-That-Would-Not-End for betaing.

And of course, thank you to Lady Viola, author of a number of truly excellent fics, including Tales from the Tower which is a great Avengers-verse fic. Also thank you to BairnSidhe, who is periennially supportive and kind.

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><p><em>"<em>__Great! Imma tell Thor, because this is on like Donkey Kong!"__

Darcy was full of energy after Legolas agreed to come home with her. Impulsively, she jumped up, kissed his cheek noisily, rather like one might kiss a small child who regards kisses as gross. __My vertical leap ain't half-bad. Totally stuck the landing. Ten out of ten points! __She turned and left the garden leaving a blushing, befuddled and bashful elf trailing in the wake of Hurricane Darcy.

"Darcy?"

"Yes, Legolas?" Darcy said, walking quickly.

"Might I inquire as to where we are going?" Legolas asked politely, his footsteps silent next to her.

"We're going to Thor's room, and we're going to wake up the God of Thunder and then we're going to talk about what we need to do to get you to New York." Darcy babbled enthusiastically.

"But—" interjected Legolas.

"The first thing we need is __clothes__, because you're never going to fit in without clothes," continued Darcy, single-mindedly.

"Yes, but—"

"And you're going to need papers. Social Security card, passport, birth certificate—We'll put you down as 22, though, because you'll get to do all the fun stuff at bars and whatnot," she said, striding down the hall, "I'll totally be the older woman. Rawr. I'm such a cougar!"

"Darcy." Legolas interrupted, dialing up the princely-ness a notch.

"And it'll give us more time before we have to give you a new identity, because there's no way you're going to pass for 40, ever."

"Darcy." Legolas said in a commanding voice, causing Darcy to stop. __Huh. Didn't know he had that in him. He kinda reminds me of Cap, again. Weird.__

"What, Legolas, you're interrupting my flow, this is good stuff," Darcy complained. "There's a lot to be done!"

"Had you heeded me, you would know that Thor is presently at the practice fields, albeit a different field than that which we visited yesterday. I believe he said something about 'seeing if there were any worthy opponents' in the Mirkwood guard." __Oh, tall, blond and princely, you're kinda cute when you're miffed. I just want to pinch your cheek and tell you this is only the first time in a long, long series when you're going to be annoyed with me.__

"Oh! Well, why didn't you say so?" Darcy asked with a wink, taking Legolas's arm. "Lead on," she said, gesturing in the vaguest of directions.

Legolas set a more sedate pace for them and marveled at the ball of energy that was Darcy. She was so __alive__, from the tips of her fingers to her expressive face and her loud, clumsy feet. Albeit, graceful for a Daughter of Man he supposed. She had such beautiful hair, the way it bounced and shook out around her shoulders, slightly curly. He looked forward to touching it, running his hands through it. Perhaps she'd even let him brush it, perchance on their wedding night, he thought, buoyant.

He was considering how to ask his father for the family betrothal rings as he would likely be in Midgard when the time came to propose, when the pair walked out of the halls and into the light. A few hundred more feet into the forest, and they came upon a larger clearing, this one much louder than anywhere else they had yet been in Mirkwood.

Thor was in the middle of the clearing, spinning Mjolnir around himself and challenging all of elfdom. Elves are, as a race, highly dexterous, very agile and cunning opponents. Thor was a bit of a bull in a china shop by comparison. Thor was also a showman, loudly congratulating anyone who managed to get a hit on him with one of the practice weapons, and just as loudly challenging the elves to further fights and tests of mettle. Legolas's lip twitched as he saw Thor's current challenger.

The challenger urged him to put down his magical weapon, which Thor did. Except in Thor fashion, he whipped Mjolnir around several times before striking the ground at his feet, causing a wave of force to ripple up from the ground, a cloud of dust rising as a result. Picking the hammer up again, Thor put it down next to a stand of practice swords and practice bows, with nary a hammer in sight—a choice which Thor mocked to his elvish opponent, as hammers are quite good weapons, albeit not typical ones for an elf. Axes, too, were not favored weapons, but Legolas knew well how deadly his friend Gimli's axes were.

Thor eschewed the practice bow and practice swords, picking up a staff about six feet long and hefting it, testing its spring and its reach. His challenger grabbed a staff, too, and the combatants squared off. Darcy couldn't tell what they were saying, other than what Legolas translated for her, but she knew fight-talking when she heard it, and the audience of elves was __totally__ going after it, keeping up a constant buzz of comments like at a baseball game. What she couldn't tell is whether they were aiming their jibes at Thor or his opponent.

Thor's opponent was very tricky, blocking efficiently and parrying quickly, a virtual blur of green clothing and red hair. Thor went for an overhead "caveman" type strike, and the fighter blocked the hit, scraping his own staff down Thor's weapon, bruising Thor's fingers. Thor laughed and shook his hands out one at a time, beginning again.

"I remember well the first time she caught me with that trick," said Legolas. "I dropped my staff. It was most embarrassing."

Darcy felt a little bubble of insecure jealousy come to the surface. As they paused for Thor's hand-numbness, she could tell that the elleth was tall, with that pearly-glowy skin that all the elves seemed to have. Her red hair, adorned with braids, flowed down past her hips without a curl or wave or even a bit of frizz. Her ears were larger than most, but it only seemed to draw attention to the curve of her perfect cheekbones, perfect lips open in mocking challenge to Thor. __Holy guacamole, that woman weighs half what I do and is at least 5'10". If this is the elvish standard of beauty, then… what am I supposed to do, here? __

"She's beautiful," said Darcy, adding a choice word on the end for emphasis, not realizing that her inner censor was again faulty. "I'd kill a man in Reno just to have that __HAIR__."

"Yes, she is." Legolas answered in a tone that one might use to describe a painting or a sculpture, ignoring Darcy's homicidal tendencies. But Darcy only heard her soulmate complimenting another lady. A lady that had, by Earth standards, a model's figure and the Ultimate Hair Ever. And apparently she was an awesome warrior because Thor was shaking his hand, his knuckles having been rapped __AGAIN__.

"So… You guys used to be a thing or are you just friends or … because my mouth to God's ear, I'd be hitting that if I could. I mean, whoa." Darcy babbled. "She's hot like __whoa__. I don't even have words for that level of hotness."

"I am uncertain what you are asking," said Legolas, confused by "hitting that"—hitting Tauriel? Eru's ear? Hot like whoa? Like stopping a horse? He was utterly confused. Elves do not get fevers. And they do not hit one another except in training exercises. Did she want to train with Tauriel?

"I'm saying that that woman down there is probably the most attractive person I've ever seen in my life, and I don't know if anything is ever going to be right again." Darcy just kept on babbling, realizing that things were not going well and that she didn't seem to be able to stop talking about another woman's hotness. __This is stupid. Why would I ever draw attention to someone else's hotness? He already knows she's hot, he has eyes!__

"Tauriel? She is fair, I admit," he said, looking over at the sparring match. "But I prefer another," he murmured, looking at Darcy. Looking into those blue, blue eyes, Darcy forgot to breathe, forgot the sparring match, forgot their purpose in coming. One of his warrior braids had come to rest on his chest. Darcy reached up and pushed the braid back behind his ear, tracing its shape with her fingers, testing its texture. Legolas breathed in audibly, and quickly caught her hand, pressed a kiss to her palm, and rested her palm against his chest, a blush rising on his cheeks.

Darcy figured out pretty quick that she had done something wrong. "I-I. I'm sorry!" she stammered, pulling away.

Legolas smiled gently, not letting go of her hand, caressing it lightly. "Do not be. There are few ellyn who would not wish to have their ears stroked by their soulmatch. I would prefer, however, that we were not in the company of others."

Thor's voice resounded around the clearing, "Darcy, Legolas! Come, come join us!"

Darcy jumped at the sound of his voice. Still uncertain about everything from the hotness of female warrior elves, to whether she was accidentally being a bit of an elf-molester, to whether it was time to have the "Where is this going?" chat with Legolas. . . __I mean, it's going to New York, obviously. But at the same time…dunno…good communication is important, right?__

Legolas tucked Darcy's hand into his elbow and led the way to the training ring. He said something incomprehensible to the assembled audience, and then to Darcy he said, "Let me introduce you to my friend of these past 600 years, Tauriel." He spoke to Tauriel in that sing-songy speech of theirs, Darcy recognizing only her name and Midgard and Tauriel.

Thor translated, "He says that he is pleased to introduce his soulmatch Lady Darcy of Midgard, to his friend Tauriel of the Greenwood."

Darcy put out her right hand to shake Tauriels, but Tauriel grabbed it in her left, bowing over it with her hand over her heart, saying something. Darcy felt a bit bashful, again. It was becoming something of a habit. Thor again translated, "She is pleased to meet the one fated for her friend, Prince Legolas of the Greenwood."

As Tauriel rose out of her bow, Darcy noticed that the other elves had bowed, too. Darcy gave an awkward little finger wave. "Hi, guys. And gals."

Tauriel spoke to Darcy, the translation of which was, "I look forward to getting to know you."

"Me, too," said Darcy, enthusiastically. __And your stylist. I need your stylist.__

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><p>Notes from Tamarama: Thank you to each and every person who kudos'scomments/reads/puts this on a recommended list/offers constructive criticism/basically interacts with me in any way. Question for those who feel like answering: Do you feel like Leggles is staying elfy and Darcy is staying Darcy? They're trying to meet in the middle, but I don't want to muddy the waters too much!


	7. Chapter 7

**Original notes from AO3: **

Thranduil and Legolas have a bit of a heart to heart; Legolas prepares to vacate Middle Earth. There's not much Darcy in this chapter. Truth be known, we're probably going to be switching between their perspectives throughout the rest of the fic. Thanks to Lady Viola, KathySinister, and BairnSidhe, all of whom helped and all of whose fanfictions you should read.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

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><p>Not long after the introductions, the demi-god, the elf, and the scientist-wrangler made their excuses and left the training area, much to the disappointment of elves who were hoping to take advantage of Thor's fatigue from sparring with Tauriel. This thought, of course, indicates the elves' lack of understanding as to the true nature of Thor. <em><em>According to Jane, he doesn't really have any kind of fatigue issue. And judging from how she walks on Monday mornings, I think she's in a position to know<em>_.

The trio discussed the logistics of coming back and forth between the worlds via the Bifrost, very much happy that with Thor's permission, there was no reason that they could not travel between the worlds at will. Then, the three separated in order to get various necessary tasks done. While Thor and Darcy composed a letter to Tony—complete with post-script to Jarvis—Legolas sought out his father.

Thranduil was currently working on a new draft of a trade agreement between the dwarrow of Erebor and the elves of the Greenwood. Apparently after the fall of Sauron, the dwarrow thought they could get a better price elsewhere, which irritated Thranduil to no end, as did the needlessly complicated contracts that they insisted on sending him.

"I believe I taught you that it is impolite to stand in doorways without announcing oneself," said Thranduil, marking his place on the contract with a paperweight, leaning back in his wooden chair, and rubbing his eyes.

"I did not wish to interrupt. Those contracts are painful to read the first time, losing one's place doubles the unpleasantness," said Legolas, smiling.

"My Greenleaf, you have interrupted me perhaps four times in the last century. Twice to let me know that one of the ellyn under your command had passed to the Halls of Mandos. Once when Smaug appeared over Laketown, and once with reconnaissance prior to the Battle of the Five Armies." Thranduil stood. "Now on this fifth illustrious occasion of my son deigning to interrupt an otherwise odious task, what could my son have to say?" He cocked his head to the side, "I hear no whispers in the hallway." He laid his hand back on his desk, "I feel no vibrations of a castle guard full of nervous energy."

Straightening, Thranduil slowly walked over to his child, asking quietly and in a voice few of his court members would recognize as his own, "What brings my son to me?"

"The Lady Darcy leaves to return to her realm soon, Father. I would accompany her."

Thranduil closed his eyes and turned from his child. How could things have progressed this quickly? Darcy had just come to the Greenwood moments ago, and already his son is so __eager__ to follow her to an unknown realm, traversing fields and fallow that none from Arda had ever seen. All for a woman whose life would flicker and sputter out like a very short candle.

Thranduil pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed "Will you be returning?"

"Yes. Before I approached you, I received assurances from Prince Thor that Darcy and I could return to Arda at will. We plan to return periodically, at least. And should you have need of me, there is a method of communication that you could use."

"We, we, we. Four days ago 'we' did not exist. Ever fickle are the hearts of men, their grief brief. The Gift of Man is partly their resilience when faced with disappointment. Why, then, must you disappoint me like this?" Thranduil threw his hands up and stalked to the other end of the room.

Legolas approached him. "Is it truly that she is a Daughter of Man that upsets you? Were she an elleth, would that suit you better?"

"Yes, it is that she is a Daughter of Man that upsets me." Thranduil spat, harshly. Turning to Legolas, he said, "You will bind yourself to her, she will live and breathe and die all in the time it takes you to decide upon a new tunic. And when she dies, you have no hope of seeing her again until the world is remade."

Thranduil placed his hands on his son's shoulders, "I do not wish to see you fade from grief. I do not wish to be parted from my son until his hurt is cleansed within those halls."

"Must that be my fate?" asked Legolas, searching his father's eyes. "Is it so simple, that she must die and I must live on, the Light of the Valar fading from me until my spirit goes to the Halls? If that were my fate, then why did you not fade when Mother sailed? Why did Elrond not fade after Celebrian sailed? Why did the widowers and widows of my guardsmen not fade after the deaths of their husband and wife?"

Thranduil sighed, breaking eye contact and opening his mouth to answer.

"-Because, Father, something else keeps them here. You are here because of the Kingdom. Elrond is in much the same position. But for the common elf whose spouse goes to the Halls, why do some fade and others not?"

Thranduil dropped his hands and turned. "…Children," he said, softly, lost in several hundred years of memories since his wife sailed. "We stay for duty or we stay for love of others."

Legolas nodded. "I might fade. But the Gift of Man is also in that they are quite…fecund, their immortality in the traits they pass from one generation to the next. And if my fate should be that my love should die and my children live on, then it is the path upon which I am set."

Thranduil sighed, resigned. "I would save you from this, if I could." Having said all that he intended to say, he gestured at Legolas. Then, Thranduil went into his private chambers, Legolas on his heels. Walking to a locked chest, he pulled a key from his robes.

"Mother's chest," said Legolas, tracing a whorl decorating the lid.

Thranduil nodded, unlocking the chest and opening it. A variety of things were in the chest-a lock of Legolas's hair, his baby clothes, and a series of sketches of him as an elfling were easily identified. Thranduil pulled out a small envelope, sealed with wax, and handed it to his son, closing and locking the chest back up. Opening it, Legolas found a brief note and two silver rings.

_"___My beloved son,__

__I have never been one to point out the occasions of my rightness, but for you to have need of these does suggest that I was, in fact, right."__

Legolas laughed at his mother's joke. She had always enjoyed humor more so than other elves, be it playing a trick or two on her ladies' maids, or more sly wordplay. He thought with a pang that his Darcy and his mother would have liked one another. Continuing, he read,

_"___Congratulations on the occasion of your betrothal, my dear Greenleaf. I await our reunion in Valinor, where I shall meet your bride and look upon your marks—so worried about your mark, you were. And yet you possess one. I'm certain it's lovely. I'm certain she's lovely. I look forward to spoiling my grandchildren with impunity. I shall be their favorite grandparent, doubt it not.__

__With much love and happiness,__

__Mother"__

Legolas looked up to see Thranduil looking at him expectantly. He handed the note to his father and pocketed the rings. His father, harsh and austere except on rare, private occasion, had tears swimming in his eyes. "She always was, and remains, the best part of me," said Thranduil softly, a thousand miles and several hundred years away.

Some minutes later, Thranduil collected himself and walked over to his son, embracing him. "Since I cannot persuade you from this foolhardy course, then I suppose I shall endeavor to be happy for you."

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><p>Notes from Tamara: I hope you liked it. I felt like it was important to show that there really is a relationship between Thranduil and Legolas that's based on love and concern, and one between Legolas and his Mother, and one between his Mother and Thranduil. I also wanted to point out that Legolas has "duty" built into him from the get-go. And, let's face it, I didn't want the Lee Pace Army to hate me forever. (I'm like a sergeant in the Lee Pace Army, and no one likes a court-martial.) Also, in case the letter-from-Mom confused you, Leggles isn't going to rush things, he just wants to be prepared... I love talking to you guys and I've gotten some really good feedback lately. I'd love to keep that going; please feel free to critique and review to your hearts content. Fanfiction authors don't make money off their work; we get paid in kudos and reviews and in furthering the fandom. It's funny, two months ago I only left reviews when I felt emphatic about a fic. Now I leave a review on just about everyone's.<p> 


	8. Chapter 8

**Original notes from AO3**: Legolas finishes up his to-do list and Darcy plays a bit of the coquette while answering questions about the of you who missed Darcy in yesterday's Thrandy-Feels chapter should enjoy this one a bit more. Thanks to Lady Viola and BairnSidhe, whose fanfictions you should read.

Reminder from **Lady Viola**! This is not my work, but the work of the wonderful **tamaram**a on A03, revised and posted here with her permission. Review for her! I'll see that she gets them all.

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><p>Once Legolas had the betrothal rings safely in his possession and had informed his father of how to contact him via the Bifrost scar, he felt it was time to write those who might be surprised by his absence. For the rest of that day, and all of that night, excepting mealtimes, he wrote a series of four letters. The first was a letter to Gimli, explaining that he had finally found the woman whose words he bore, that he was leaving to go to her realm for some time, that if he should need Legolas, to contact his father and that his father would know how to get in touch with him. That he hoped Darcy would accept his suit and that in that eventuality, he looked forward to visiting the Glittering Caves with Darcy. He wrote a similar letter to the Shire, addressing it to Frodo but expecting him to share the information with Merry, Pippin and Sam.<p>

He wrote a letter to Faramir, explaining that his plans to establish an elf colony in Ithilien would have to be delayed until after he and Darcy decided where they would take up more-or-less permanent residence. He also made a suggestion of an elf or two who he thought would do an excellent job at rallying the remaining elves to Ithilien—those who had not yet sailed and did not seem to feel quite as compelled to do so as others.

And finally, he wrote a letter to Aragorn—Elessar, now—explaining much the same thing. Except unlike the letters to Gimli and the Hobbits, Legolas knew that his letter would be shared with Arwen. Such sharing was unsurprising, if he had wanted privacy, then he would have sent it under the official seal of the Woodland Realm rather than his own seal. As a result, Legolas expected that Arwen would tell her elvish ladies-in-waiting, who would tell their relations in Rivendell, who would tell Elrond himself. Naturally, were there something more official of which to inform his fellow Firstborn, Thranduil would have sent announcements out. But, there was no such need—at least not yet. Legolas mentioned that he looked forward to getting Arwen's advice on dealing with Men at some point in the future. He also wrote of his hope to have a reason to inquire as to what it is like to be half-elven. Legolas was nothing if not confident. Darcy and he were, after all, marked and inevitably these things would take their course.

Legolas stepped back from his correspondence and stretched, pleased. There was little left to do.

Departing dignitaries were a big deal, Thor included, so Darcy and Legolas were on-hand to wish him off, along with a contingent of other elves. Thor left at an ungodly—or perhaps demi-godly—hour of the morning, off to Asgard to relate his instructions to Heimdall and then back to Midgard, Darcy's letter to Tony in hand. She had considered writing Jane or Pepper, but she knew that some of her requests would be better going directly to Tony. Besides, it was inevitable that she was going to tell Jane everything over drinks and loud music.

After her friend vanished in a blur of rainbows and the assembled elves gaped (for elves—it was really more like a slight parting of the lips with a minute intake of breath), Legolas and Darcy took a stroll around the gardens.

"When do you think you'll be ready to leave?" Darcy asked, expectantly.

"Sometime tomorrow I should expect. And you?" Legolas answered, politely.

"Well, we don't want to leave too quickly—Thor's sense of time is notoriously awful," she looked up at Legolas, eyes mirthful. "I don't want to beat my letter home. It's important that provisions are made for you…" she trailed off, thinking of all her requests to her friend.

"What sort of provisions?" Legolas had always considered himself a fairly easy-to-please elf, so the suggestion that something special needed to be done for him grated on his nerves somewhat.

"Mmm…" Darcy worried her lower lip between her teeth. It was a fetching sight to Legolas, such a full, rosy lip pulled between such very white teeth.

"Well, I have a lot of friends, and I told you before that they're really…extraordinary among men, right?" At Legolas's nod, she continued. "Umm… well one of them is rich. Like, he could buy a country, a kingdom. That's how much money he has." Legolas's eyes widened fractionally. It was an unfathomable amount of gold that could accomplish such a task. Perhaps the good Prince of Dol Amroth might have some fraction of that wealth, or the dwarrow of Erebor, but there was no singular person that Legolas could definitively compare to such a wealthy man.

"…And he's smart. Like crazy smart. Also, slightly crazy." Legolas was puzzled by this turn of phrase, but encouraged her to keep going. "That's how he made his money. He designed weapons for a living, and they were the __best__ weapons so all the countries…kingdoms… wanted them. Anyway, he's one part of the overall team, but because he's got so much money, and because he's ridiculously generous, a lot of the actual sites the team uses, or tech we use comes from him." She looked up at him to make sure that he was following. Allspeak was great for translating word-for-word, but nuances got lost easily in the difference between Middle Ages-speak and Modern-Speak.

"Anyway, Tony—that's his name, Tony Stark—he has this building that we all live in. I don't know that I can describe it in such a way that you'd understand, except to tell you that we call them 'skyscrapers' because they're so tall, they scrape along the sky." Darcy sighed and wondered if she was doing the right thing by bringing him to Regular Earth. __Too late to back out now__, she thought.

"So I asked him to either consider taking a vacation to one of his other homes for a little bit—he has houses in…err, near the beach, he has a cabin that's probably as big as this" she gestured at the caves containing the Palace of the Greenwood, "upstate, and he has a mansion in the same city that there's the tower in…Anyway, I asked him if we could go to one of the other houses because I think Stark Tower might be a bit much for you."

Legolas thought over what she had said. While he didn't understand everything she had said, "skyscraper" sounded most intriguing. He had always been a curious elf, but there would be time enough to discover the secrets of Midgard. He nodded at Darcy, "I am certain that your counsel is most wise."

"That was the biggest thing, because I'm sure that the team wants to be together and everyone's going to want to check you out—you're technically an __alien__ after all—and we don't have a great track record of those." She thought a moment, "Except Thor and his abs of justice. Anyway, I'm hoping that we can go to the mansion or the cabin, but Malibu is always fun…" she trailed off, realizing that he had no idea what she was talking about.

"Other than trying to ease you into things, I asked for him to work on some tech to make you blend in when you do go into the city."

"What do you mean?" asked Legolas.

Darcy spoke up, "Well, a while back there was this tech that Tony made that could make your face look like anything you wanted. I was hoping he could do something for these," she said, reaching up and touching the tip of one ear gently with her middle finger. Legolas's eyes closed, breathing sharply. Darcy fought a smile. __Poker face, Darcy! Poker face. __She removed her hand and continued walking, Legolas a half-beat slow. "Because those beautiful ears of yours are going to cause a lot of questions, really."

Stopping and turning to him again, she peered up at his ears, "Are your ears pierced? That might make it easier for Tony to create something for you."

Legolas was horrified at the suggestion that his ears had ever been maimed. "No, of course not. I would not want my ears harmed in any manner."

"It doesn't hurt, silly," Darcy said, turning her head so that her ear pointed at him, pushing her earlobe out with her index finger, "See? It was over in like four seconds. It doesn't hurt. Not anymore than having your ear pinched really hard does."

Legolas was simultaneously disgusted by the depravity of the men with which Darcy was familiar—maiming ears is simply __not done__—and intrigued at the display of Darcy's shell-like ear. So rounded and different from his own, with such an intriguing divot in her lobe. Of course, he'd seen Mannish earlobes before, even on women, but this was a different sort of discovery. Feeling very forward and slightly scandalous, Legolas stretched an elegant finger out and gently traced the curve of her ear. So different. He swallowed, thinking of her most recent caress. The backs of his fingers grazed her neck as he politely ceased his explorations.

Darcy stood still, trying hard not to scare him off. She slowly turned her head and looked at him, simultaneously raising a hand and putting it on his chest, near his shoulder. A lock of hair was there, which she picked up and twirled it, studying it intently. "So," she continued softly, "it would be best if he could create something to disguise your ears, so that you don't stand out in a crowd."

She smiled at him, "But, regardless you'll still be a very handsome specimen." Legolas smiled and picked up her hand, threading her fingers through his, rubbing his thumb alongside her fingers. The pair resumed their often self-interrupted stroll.

"Did you request anything else?" he asked. "Another home, a disguise…"

"Mmhmm. I asked him to work on creating an identity for you. And you need clothes, but I think there'll be something there to keep you covered until we can go shopping. Those were the big things I could think of, I'm sure other people will fill in any gaps."

Thinking about the other people, Legolas asked, "So you mentioned a team… and if I recall correctly, other than this Tony and Thor, there is a …Clint, I believe you said? A fellow marksman?"

Darcy nodded. "Yes. The only person I've seen that comes close is you. I'm still not certain whether you or he would win in a shoot-out." She grinned up at him.

"I look forward to the sport, then," he said, a slightly mischievous smile gracing his lips. "Who else shall I meet when we arrive?"

"My friend Jane—Thor talks a lot about her," Legolas nodded at Darcy, who continued, "She's a scientist and my boss, and she is SO. SMART."

Darcy kept chattering as Legolas kept making the appropriate 'continue' gestures. "Let's see, who else…Oh! Pepper is Tony's girlfriend. She's beautiful and put-together and organized and polished and…. When I grow up, I want to be Pepper Potts." Darcy laughed.

"And while I'm on the 'ladies' of the group, I have to talk about Natasha. She's … incredible," gushed Darcy. Legolas quirked an eyebrow at her enthusiasm. "There's surveillance video… uhh… nevermind that. Point is—we've all SEEN HER take out a dude with her THIGHS. Word is she took out three guys with her hands behind her back and __didn't even get a run in her hose.__ She's just amazing. If I can't be Pepper Potts and run the world, then I'll be Natasha Romanoff and kick the world's butt!"

Legolas laughed, "Surely it is sufficient being Darcy?"

"Yes, but who wants sufficiency?" Darcy wiggled her eyebrows a bit for him. "There's another scientist like Jane, Bruce Banner. He…." She paused, thinking of the private, reclusive man with his remorseful brown eyes. __He'll probably enjoy not being the weird one, for a while.__ "You know, someone else should explain that one to you, I'm not sure where to start. Just don't make him angry." Darcy thought a moment. "And try to avoid sneaking up on him. I should put a bell on you," she added.

"A bell?" he asked, bemused.

"So we can hear you coming, your royal elfness," she winked up at him. Legolas laughed, lightly.

"Hmm, who else lives in the Tower? Oh wait, I almost forgot our Fearless Leader, Cap'n Steveroonie! Steve's a good guy. He basically does the right thing pretty much all the time." Darcy pondered a moment. "He's really old-fashioned, so I think you'll have more in common than you might expect."

Darcy looked up at him, "You gonna be okay in my big bad world?"

"Milady, I have been most okay ever since you arrived."

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><p><strong>Tamarama<strong>: Et voila! I'm starting on Ch. 9 now. As Mr. Fury says, "Until such time as the world ends, we will act as though it intends to spin on." Thank you for your comments and bookmarks and kudos and ...any form of interaction, really.


	9. Chapter 9

**Reminder! This is by Tamarama, on A03, revised (from M rating to T) and posted here with her permission! I know you're probably tired of me saying this every single chapter, but I want credit to go where it is due! **

Goodbye Thranduil; Hello Tony!

Notes: Thanks to KathySinister for looking this over for me prior to my posting it! A super-short recap of the prior chapter: Leggy wrote some letters and then he and Darcy discussed the various Avengers.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

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><p>Leaving the Greenwood wasn't quite what Darcy had expected. First, she had thought that the rugged, experienced soldier and world-traveler would pack lightly. That was not the case.<p>

"Dude, what's __in here__?" asked Darcy, helping Legolas—who was already loaded down with knives and bow—move a trunk into the Bifrost circle. The elves had left it at the edge, preferring not to step into it.

"My armor, several changes of clothes, formal robes, my circlet, my seal, sealing wax, certain toiletries that might not be available on Midgard, a favorite book or two, several dozen good feathers for fletching, several dozen good candidates for arrowheads, and a few other trifles."

"Whoa. Well, you'll be well prepared for …lots of things, then. I hope it makes it. I've never seen Thor move this much stuff through, though."

Legolas looked at her worriedly, "I do hope it is not inconvenient for me to take these things. I felt like I should bring things I would need if I were visiting for an extended period, and rather than pack multiple bags, I felt the trunk was easier…." Legolas trailed off. __Aww, snookums is nervous__. "I should want to be appropriately garbed for any feast as befits my station and to bring pride to Greenwood by my representation of my people."

Darcy smiled up at him, "I'm sure that you always bring pride to Greenwood. Plus—who's gonna tell them any different?" Darcy arched a brow. "I'm sure not."

Legolas gave a small smile. The pair walked to the throne room, passing a mirror on the way. Darcy was struck by how silly they looked next to one another—their outfits matched. Tunic, leggings, jerkin thing… the big difference was, of course, Darcy's Converse and Legolas's boots. His boots looked more like leather socks, though. The soles had to be super-thin, she mused. A few seconds later, something in their appearance clicked in her head and it dawned on her—"Hey, Legolas."

"Yes, Darcy?"

"I'm wearing your clothes, aren't I?"

Legolas smiled, "Of course. Who else could I ask for leggings? It would have been most inappropriate to put you in guardsmens' clothes, and there are few ellith not of the guard who prefer the clothing of ellyn."

Darcy pulled him to a stop, shaking a finger at him. "You're not fooling me, mister. You just didn't want me in some other ellon's pants."

Legolas arched an eyebrow at her, perhaps his most theatrical expression to date. "Perhaps it gives me some small amount of pleasure to see you in my colors."

Darcy laughed, unsure if that was an elvish euphemism for something or not. "So green and silver are your colors, then?"

Legolas nodded. "Technically they are the colors of the Crown Prince of the Greenwood; they were my father's colors before me. But, effectively, they are my colors." Turning, he walked the last few steps into the throne room, "Come now, Darcy. We must take our leave." Legolas held out his hand to Darcy.

Darcy reached out and took his hand, his long fingers curving elegantly around her hand. Smiling, they walked into the throne room. Legolas stopped at the edge of the stairs, bowed his head, and said something in Sindarin. Darcy, half a beat behind, bowed her head too. _"_Translate!" she whispered.

"I said 'Prince Legolas and the Lady Darcy request an audience with the King.'" Legolas turned his face toward her slightly.

Thranduil, meanwhile, clapped his hands and said something. The guards began filing out. "He said 'Leave us.'"

Thranduil walked down the steps, stopping in front of Legolas and then moving in front of Darcy. Darcy, meanwhile, was studying the fabric of which his robes was made carefully. __Silver and black? Are those Thrandy's colors?__ Thranduil extended his hand, grasping Darcy's chin in it, and pushing her head up.

"Hey buddy, hands off the merchandise!" she snapped without thinking, stepping backwards and putting her hands up, palms out. Thranduil dropped his hand, and Darcy quieted. He murmured something incomprehensible. "What?" said Darcy, looking at Legolas.

"He says that you are fair, despite your humanity." Legolas, being of discerning years and having been exposed to much courtly subterfuge in his time, did omit part of Thranduil's commentary, as he would prefer that "And you have your work cut out for you, if this is to be your bride," remain between him and his father.

"Oh. Well that's nice." She cocked her head to the side and gave Thranduil a charming and completely fake smile. __There, be rewarded for being nice.__

Thranduil walked to his son, embracing him, speaking softly. Legolas responded quietly. Darcy felt that she was intruding, so she looked around the throne room for the last time…for a while, at least. She was just inspecting the ceiling when Thranduil's antler-appointed head popped into her vision again. Thranduil picked up her hand in his right hand, placing his left hand over hers, and murmured some more Sindarin at her. Then, with a swish of silver and black and orange, he turned, mounted the stairs, and sprawled negligently upon his throne. In his more familiar "jerk voice" as Darcy had come to think of it, he said a few more syllables. Then, Darcy and Legolas left, passing the guards on the way out.

"What did he say?"

"That he hopes our travels are safe, and that he wants me to return to him post-haste, to not battle any cave trolls, and so on. He told you that he looks forward to seeing you when next we visit the Greenwood and that he hopes next time you can stay longer." They were almost at the Bifrost scar, and a company of elves began appearing as they stepped into it. Legolas bowed with his hand over his heart, saying something. The assembled elves bowed and said something.

Darcy gave them a finger wave, "Bye you guys!" Noticing Rivaldir among the elves, she gave a bigger wave, "Bye Rivaldir!" Legolas translated for her, and Rivaldir smiled, bowing again.

"Okay, last chance to back out, Legolas. You still with me?" she asked. He nodded. "Better hold on, then," she said, putting her arm around his waist. "You got ahold of your trunk?" Legolas grasped the handle of his trunk. Then in her most theatrical voice—because __when next would get to do this__—she looked up, raising her arm as if she were holding Mjolnir, calling to the heavens. "Heimdall, take me home!" And with a blur of rainbows, Legolas and Darcy were gone.

They arrived on the deck of Stark Tower. Of course, Darcy knew this, but Legolas did not. And he glanced around and around, looking at his new surroundings in the sky. A building made of glass and metal, a city that stretched out endlessly—and not a single tree in sight. His woodland heart beat anxiously within his chest, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners, betraying his apprehension only to those used to elvish reticence.

Darcy bounded across the platform, and opened the penthouse doors just as various Avengers and Co. arrived—Jarvis must have alerted them to her presence. "Hi, guys!" she said. A cacophony of voices spoke to her at once.

"Lady Darcy," spoke Thor, embracing her quickly and moving away

"Did you write down your impressions from the Bifrost? Were they the same as on your return trip or were they different? And I am so glad you're not dead," babbled Jane, hugging Darcy tightly.

Steve gave her the "shake-hands half-hug" and said "Darcy. Good to see you."

"I bet you thought you were slick, being the first person to go solo to another realm, but now that we know that Jane can do it accidentally, I think as her benefactor, clearly I'm next. Don't you agree, Darcy?" said Tony, giving her a high-five.

She was missing a few friends. Dr. Banner wasn't there, and neither were the spysassins. Jane and Tony started arguing. __Go figure.__

Backing away from her pals, she turned to see Thor and Legolas speaking, clasping each other's forearms, seeming happy to be reunited.

"Guys, before I ask you where Big Green and my spysassins are—let me introduce you guys to Legolas."

Tony burst out of the little crowd, striding up to Legolas confidently. "Tony Stark," he put out his hand expectantly, "Darcy's brother-from-another-mother slash surrogate father slash boss slash—" Legolas looked at him, with his shorn hair and his carefully-shaved beard. He had never seen such…grooming… on Middle Earth. While his experience was admittedly limited with the Sons of Men, he had lived in the city of Minas Tirith for several months between the end of the Ring War and the Royal Wedding. Legolas picked up Tony's hand and dropped it without shaking it. "__Oh. Probably should have had an "Earth Greetings" lesson back on Middle Earth,"__ thought Darcy. Tony didn't seem to think too hard about it though.

Elbowing Tony in the ribs, Darcy said, "Shut up, Tony. You know I'm happy with my existing family and technically __Pepper__ is my boss."

"You wound me, Darcy—I thought what we had was special! And speaking of Pepper, she should be here. I had Jarvis include her on the page, but she was 'on a conference call' and—"

Darcy rolled her eyes. "Great, Tony. Great. She can do her thing, we'll catch up later."

Steve came up and smiled good-naturedly at the elf. "Steve Rogers, pleased to meet you." Legolas looked upon the tall, very muscular man. It seemed Midgard "grew them strong" as the Rohan proverb says. Steve continued, "You're quite a lucky fella to be bound to our Darcy. She's really a special lady," he said, rubbing his left ribs with his right hand. __Ahh, is that where Cap'n KhakiPants keeps his soulmark hidden? __Legolas extended his hand, and Steve shook it.

Jane, on the other hand, just word-vomited all over herself. "You know I thought I had seen my last elf after the whole escapade in London with the dark elves and the ether and all. But here you are. You're really good-looking. Especially if you like thin guys. Are you okay? I hope you're not evil. Would you mind if we went downstairs and took some data?" Jane blurted. Legolas stared at her, slightly bewildered at the petite woman's monologue.

"Well met, friends of Darcy," intoned Legolas, bowing with his hand over his heart. "I am Legolas, son of King Thranduil, of the Woodland Realm. Darcy has told me much about you."

Jane mumbled, "I like his voice. It's like a wind chime or something. Like a really light didgeridoo."

"Not now, Jane," hissed Darcy in a whisper. "Where's the rest of our band of misfits, guys?"

Thor spoke up, "The Widow and Hawkeye are on assignment for SHIELD. They are to return to us tomorrow afternoon."

Darcy nodded, "Okay. And the Big Green Science Machine?"

"Couldn't leave his experiment on such short notice, D.L." said Tony. "He shouldn't be too busy to take your vitals, although most stuff Jarvis has been scanning for since you arrived." Tony pointed to an earpiece, leaned toward Darcy and quietly said, "And Jarvis is in 'don't freak out the new guy' mode. We're all wearing earpieces. Here's yours," he said pushing an earbud into her hand. "Better introduce him quick, though. Nobody puts Jarvy in a corner."

Legolas asked where he should move his trunk, which Thor threw over one of his shoulders, "You'll be staying in the same wing as Jane and I, and as Lady Darcy. I'll put this in your chamber. You should accompany Darcy to the science labs and Dr. Banner."

Legolas did as he was told, trying and succeeding with typical elvish reserve at ignoring the vast change in scenery and custom and…"__Is this chamber moving?__" he thought.

After Thor and Steve departed the elevator on one of the residential floors, the party was reduced to Jane and Darcy—who were chattering about what they'd missed, most of which seemed to be about "readings" on Jane's end and "Tivo" on Darcy's—and Tony.

Legolas glanced at the other man. He was not surprised to find Tony staring at him, but once eye contact was made, Tony failed to look away. It was impertinent. "Yes?" Legolas asked.

Tony took his hand away from where he had been stroking his goatee, "Unlike these two jokers," he said, thumbing at Jane and Darcy, "I haven't seen an elf—dark or not—before. I was checking out your ears."

Jane whispered to Darcy, "I think they're cute!"

"Jane," Darcy whispered back, "He's six inches away from you. I think he can hear you." Looking at Legolas, it was evident that he did, in fact, hear. He colored slightly, and smiled softly at Jane.

"Oh that's too precious. How old is he, Darcy? He's too old to be blushing at an *ear* compliment," laughed Tony.

Darcy backhanded Tony's ribs. "Best. Behavior. Tony," she said, shooting him an "I will cut you" look. Legolas looked at Tony, then at Darcy, and finally at Jane. Before he could decide on a course of action—or inaction—the door dinged and they were on the Tony/Bruce/Jane research and development floor, also known colloquially as Fort Knox.

After providing their security credentials in the form of retinal scans—and in Legolas's case, creating such credentials—they opened the door to the lab. Legolas had never seen so much glass in his life. So clear and translucent. The images that shifted along the glass were of much less interest to him than the quality of the glass.

"Bruce Banner," said Bruce, greeting Legolas and extending his hand, "Pleased to meet you." Having caught on, Legolas clasped his hand and shook it, and extended his greetings to the rather plain, humble-seeming Man as well.

"Heard you were down here being all sassy and too busy to come greet your pal Darcy, Doc," said Darcy, hands on her hips. "You know that the punishment for insubordination is an immediate withdrawal of all my chocolatey baked goodnesses. Or in this case, future withholdings. Like taxes for being bad."

"But Darcy, we didn't know when you were coming and I couldn't leave my experiment," said Bruce earnestly. "I'm sorry that I couldn't be there." He looked at Darcy plaintively, who huffed at him and looked away.

"Ahhh, stop with the puppy dog eyes, geez, Banner. Take their vitals and let these two crazy kids get down to business," interrupted Tony from the coffee-nook.

"I forgive you this time," said Darcy, poker-faced. "Don't disappoint me again." She said "again" in the fancy voice. Like, a-gain instead of a-ghen. "So, you're going to take my blood pressure or something?" Darcy hopped up on the nearest stool and started pushing up her tunic sleeve. Legolas watched, tensed and ready to defend Darcy in an instant, if necessary.

"Blood sample," said Bruce. "Your blood pressure could be high due to the stress of the bifrost, and Jarvis already knows your heart rate," he said as he applied a tourniquet for a blood sample. "I'm more interested in any changes between this sample and the last sample you provided." Bruce paused and switched vials, "Nice clothes," Bruce remarked.

"Thanks, I'm in Legolas's pants," she said, kicking her feet out so that Bruce could view the leggings. Tony, meanwhile, did a spit-take with a large amount of coffee.

"Lewis! That almost went out my nose!" shouted Tony, histrionically.

Ignoring Tony, and holding a cotton pad to Darcy's elbow, Bruce said, "I'm surprised you guys are the same size, he seems a bit…taller." Bruce arched a brow at her, lips quirking up

Darcy grinned, "I make this stuff look __good__. I'm definitely not shaped like any of the ellyn—that's Elvish for elf-dudes—that I saw, for sure. Anyway, check it out, my maid customized them for me." She hopped off the chair and put one foot into it, showing off Forndis's handiwork.

"How about that—you had your own maid?" Bruce indulged Darcy and looked over at Legolas. "You mind if I get a sample of your blood, Mr. Legolas? I don't have any elvish blood samples to compare it to, but perhaps if I take another sample next week sometime there might be a difference…" Bruce trailed off, science-ing in his head. "It would really help us study the bifrost, if you'd let us." Then Bruce explained what he would do. Legolas would sit, his elbow would be sanitized, his arm would be put in a tourniquet. Jarvis—a "computer"—whatever that might be—would project an image of his vein pattern over his skin so that Bruce could hit the right place. Bruce would then take a very small, hollow needle, and put it in Legolas's vein, and it would suck Legolas's blood up into the vial, like Darcy's did. Once he had two vials' worth, Bruce would stop, put pressure on the wound, and bandage it. Then, after removing the tourniquet, Legolas would be good as new.

Legolas was silent a moment, pondering this situation. No one had ever asked for his blood before. But then, Darcy had already gone through the procedure without complaint, and it was in the name of study and knowledge—honorable pursuits. He nodded, removed his weapons, and sat in the indicated chair. While Bruce went through the steps, Legolas noticed that Bruce spoke to Jarvis, who wasn't present, asking for the vein pattern. It puzzled Legolas. But he expected to Darcy to explain, and he was patient, even among his people. He had overheard the conversation between Darcy and Tony earlier. It wasn't deliberate, elvish senses—hearing and sight particularly—are very sensitive. While common knowledge within his realm, there had not been a reason to disclose such a thing. And in the meantime, it was somewhat fun having a secret.

Bruce interrupted Legolas's musings. "Thanks for doing this. We really appreciate it. It'll go a long way toward understanding elves—at least those from Middle Earth, and of course to understanding the bifrost. Almost done." Bruce slid the needle out, pressed a cotton ball to the wound and held Legolas's arm awkwardly over his head. "There. You should be good to go after this," he said, affixing a bandage to the site.

"Aww, plain brown?" said Darcy, gesturing at her own Hello Kitty bandage. "If he had any idea who the Ninja Turtles were—"

"—I'd have affixed one first. But for now, he gets plain ol' brown. It's your responsibility to get him to the Ninja Turtles bandaid level of pop culture knowledge." Bruce looked at Darcy, trying to communicate something that she wasn't quite grasping.

Darcy raised her hand, three fingers up in the Girl Scouts' salute, "Scout's honor."

Jane looked at Darcy, "I didn't know you were a Girl Scout. You hate camping."

Darcy grinned at her. "I wasn't." She grabbed Legolas's hand and pulled him to his feet. He took his weapons, and they be, "Peace out, you guys. We're going to go get settled in."

Tony yelled, "Wait, Darcy!" He jogged over to them and said, "We need to test the tech tomorrow morning. And we're headed to the Cabin after Clint and Tasha show up tomorrow."

"Car or plane?"

"Cars. You up to drive?"

"One of your cars?" Darcy squealed a little bit, her feet dancing a bit in place. "OF COURSE I'm up for driving!"

Tony began backing up, hands in the air. "Whoa there, homeskillet—I'll rent you the most fabulous Toyota on the Enterprise lot. You're never touching my babies; your clearance level isn't high enough."

Darcy pouted. "Fine. I'll drive. But get something with six cylinders, I don't even know how to hang in the slow lane."

Tony tossed over his shoulder on the way back to his workstation, "Will do. Meet here tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, yeah. Send me a wakeup call."

The doors shut behind them, and in the hallway Darcy sighed, pushed her hair out of her face and said to Legolas, "Phew. That was a little intense, huh?"

Legolas nodded solemnly. "I expected it to be an 'intense' experience, as you say. I must admit that, if not for the explanation of Mr. Banner and having borne witness to the procedure on you, I would have declined. I hope it answers what questions they may have."

Darcy smiled. "I think you're due for a reward after being such a brave elf." She resisted the urge to pinch his cheek. "I'm going to introduce you to one of the most awesome confections in my world." Darcy grabbed his hand and pulled him to the elevator, waving her hand over a motion-sensitive panel and pressing her thumb to the floor she wanted. Jarvis was voice-reactive, but she was delaying that talk for at least a few more hours.

"What might this confection be?" Legolas asked. He had always had an appetite for sweets, one that had gotten him in trouble with the cooks as an elfling.

"I like you so much, Legolas dear, that you are going to help me make Grandma Lewis's Super-Secret Chocolate Chip Cookies." They got off the elevator, the lift moving a bit faster than last time. Jarvis could set it to any speed, and as Legolas got used to it, it would get quicker, likely, Darcy thought.

She continued, "And these aren't just any chocolate chip cookies, these are Henderson County Fair-winning cookies." Darcy pulled a "super serious" face. "These are cookies I only make when you deserve them." She stalked over to him, laid one finger on the middle of his chest, and gave him a saucy look. "So if you ever want to see them again, you best stay on my good side."

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><p>Notes: There's actually a product that can project a vein image like the one described.<p> 


	10. Chapter 10

**By: Tamara on A03 - posted here with her permission. **

Legolas and Jarvis meet, Darcy calls her parents to have that dreaded "So you heard I was in an accident; guess what, the Memorial's off!" conversation, and the lovebirds have their first argument.

Super short summary of the chapter-before-this-one: Bye, Thrandy! Helloooo New York! And then Leggy got his blood drawn and didn't even get a sucker like a good little elfling. Thanks to Lady Viola for RPing about 1/3rd of this chapter with me-TWICE. Thanks to KathySinister for reading it prior to me posting it. And thanks to BairnSidhe for plotting out this chapter with me. There's a couple of plot points we didn't plan on, but overall I'm pretty happy with it. I hope you guys are, too. And if you haven't been subscribed to the amusewithaview updates on that end of the soulmark universe, you're missing out. There's some seriously brilliant and fun stuff over there.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

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><p>Legolas laughed at her, "Then I shall make all efforts to stay in your good graces, Darcy. I throw myself on your mercy."<p>

"Do that." Darcy suggested he look around for a minute while she changed into her own typical clothes—a "Self-Rescuing Princess" t-shirt, a pair of jeans, and a different pair of Converse—and she stopped and gave herself a swipe of mascara and a coat of red lipstick. __Middle Earth wouldn't know what hit them if I showed up in red lips and cat-eye eyeliner. Probably good for ol' Thrandy to have some excitement. __ Once she was done, she collected Legolas from the window through which he was viewing the city, and guided him into the kitchen. Being on the "Thor's People" floor rather than the main "Avengers Common Rooms" floor, the kitchen was smaller but still well-appointed and comfortable. She sat Legolas on a stool while she began bustling about the kitchen.

"Okay, Legolas-who-I-wish-I-could-nickname-but-won't. I'm going to introduce you to my friend Jarvis. Say 'hi' Jarvis."

"Hello, Ms. Lewis. How might I be of assistance?" asked Jarvis, politely and in the smooth tones of Tony's original childhood butler. Legolas looked around for the source of the voice, but he could see no man. His ears told him that the voice came from somewhere above the cabinets, but he could not pick out where the voice emanated from, as it came from throughout the room. A powerful but tiny wizard, or a cursed one, or perhaps he is a djinn caught in a lamp as the people of Harad believe…

"Legolas, Jarvis is a computer. He's basically a machine that Tony made, one that can think and react like a person. While I could argue that he possesses some variety of soul, the fact is that just like the lights can turn off and on here, so can Jarvis be turned on or off." She demonstrated with the manual touch-panel for the lights. Legolas felt a touch more apprehension and confusion.

"If I may, Ms. Darcy?" asked Jarvis.

"Go for it, Big J. Just don't break my elf."

"Mr. Legolas, sir, I am a butler, and unless someone with greater clearance than you has requested another function of me—and the only people with greater clearance than you are Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts—I am yours to command. I can adjust the temperature of the rooms, the music, the light. I can keep track of how well you sleep, how well you eat, how efficient you are. I can direct you to the nearest restaurant that serves your favorite food. I can advise you of the plays for which I can acquire tickets. I can keep track of your appointments. I do not possess a body, but I am available in all Stark buildings, on certain Stark-Industries provided handsets, and within certain Stark vehicles. Please feel free to command me however you see fit, sir."

Legolas boggled at this. Although, having good servants was a part of life, and if one could make a machine to act as a servant, then that would be much more convenient and less costly than training a servant. He could see how a machine could be a better choice. So a machine with a voice… he briefly wondered if Tony's parentage included some dwarven ancestry as the dwarrow were most clever with their machinery, but Darcy interrupted his musings.

"You okay with Jarvis, Legolas?" Darcy asked, picking his hands up from where they rested on his legs and running her thumbs over his knuckles. He nodded. "Then say 'Hi' to him."

"Greetings, Master Jarvis."

"You may call me Jarvis, sir."

"Thank you," said Legolas.

"You are welcome, sir," responded Jarvis, politely.

"Okay, well, now that we've got that done—Jarvis, I want you to play some Chopin for Legolas and I. Nothing too maudlin, though."

"Very good, ma'am." The sounds of the orchestra swelled around them. Legolas listened to the familiar-but-not sounds that emanated throughout the room. They were soothing to his strained conceptions of the possible.

Darcy began grabbing ingredients out of the pantry. Then, she collected the eggs and butter from the fridge and left them out on the counter. "We have to wait for the butter to soften, so, I need to call my parents and tell them I'm not dead. Jarvis, where's my phone?"

"I believe that Ms. Potts took it from Mr. Stark and asked Mr. Hogan to put it in your box." Darcy went back to the entrance hall, over to the mailbox array, scanned her thumb, and took out her mail. In addition to the lastest StarkPhone, she had several credit card bills, a letter from Sallie Mae about her student loans, and a letter from the Culver Alumni Association asking for more money. The mail she threw on the counter without opening, and then she looked at her phone.

"Okay, so this little box is another computer machine, like Jarvis. In fact, there's a mini-Jarvis on this one—but most phones don't have that. At any rate, my mom has one of these boxes too. So when I tell my phone to call her phone, I get to talk to her through it. We'll get you one of these soon, so that you can call me." Legolas's eyes widened. Communication over such distances… no messengers, no riders. How fantastic that one could speak over such great distances. Just think of the foreign trade implications, and how much better his espionage of Umbar would have gone, had he been able to contact Elessar. This Stark, he must truly be a master at his forge to have created such a device that would make speech over such a long distance viable. He must truly be deserving of his wealth, a veritable wizard among his people in actions if not in truth.

"It's kind of rude to have a guest and call someone else, though, so I'm really sorry. I'll try to keep it quick, though. You don't mind do you?" Darcy asked, slightly anxious that he might, in fact, be upset by her inattention. Legolas shook his head.

Legolas watched as Darcy touched her phone. An image popped up on it, and she held it up to her ear and walked to the other side of the room. Legolas heard one-half of the phone-box created conversation.

"Hi, Mom. Thought I'd call and tell you I'm not dead!" A pause, then: "No, I was just transported across the universe for a few days. They brought me back though. …. Yes. …. Yes that's possible. Hey, before we get into all that, I do have good news."

Another lengthy pause. "Huh. Okay, well, are Elizabeth and Bennet and Dad there? Okay, well grab Lizzie, then. What's Bennet doing? …. Really? …. I thought they broke up. …. Well there's no accounting for taste. Just hit the button that looks like a speaker, Mom. …. Okay do we have everyone assembled? Great, I'll tell you my good news. So, I can't tell you the specifics, but basically, I travelled across the galaxy and as a result of my lab accident, I met my soulmate."

Legolas heard a screeching noise from the phone, it hurt his ears. In fact, it hurt his teeth. His lips straightened out into a flat line, it was all he could do not to put his fingers in his ears like an elfling. Thankfully, the noise stopped.

"Right. Well he's only an alien when he's on Earth. Technically I was the alien when I was there. …. Yes, he's humanoid. …. Yes, he speaks English…. His name is Legolas. …. What did you expect from someone from another world? …. It says "A star shines on the hour of our meeting." …. I know, isn't that the best? You should hear him say it, too, it's wonderful. …. Oh he's dreamy, you'll just have to wait and see. …. They call it Middle Earth. …. Uh, kind of medieval society-wise, but they didn't seem too crazy-sexist when I was there. Yeah. And did I mention that he's a prince?"

Another squeal assaulted Legolas's ears.

"Yup. Yeah, his dad's a king. …. Not really, his dad's not super-nice…. No, just first impressions... No, his mom's not around. …. We've known each other like four days, we haven't talked about it yet. …. No, still "just Darcy" at present…." Darcy's tone grew sharp, "Elizabeth Jane, you just stop. …. Just—stop now…. You're putting the cart before the horse and I won't…. No, I will not allow her to 'have her fun', Mother. …. Yeah, well, I'll remember this when it's your turn, Lizzie."

Darcy sighed loudly and made the little talky sign with her hand, a sign Legolas had not seen since her first day or so on Middle Earth.

"Well, listen, I'm making cookies and I was just waiting for the butter to soften up and I'm sure it's about there by now. …. Of course I'm making Grandma Lewis's Super-Secret Chocolate Chip Cookies. This is my soulmate we're talking about here, you gotta throw out all the stops. The way to an el—err, anyone's— heart is through his stomach and all that…. Yes, he's here. …. No, not this time, I think you guys should meet in person before you talk on the phone…. Eh, maybe in a few weeks, I'll call you when my schedule opens up." Darcy rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Yeah. Yeah, well, I gotta go. Yeah. Yeah I love you, too. Okay, I'm getting off now. I love you. Okay, bye now." Darcy pulled the phone away from her ear and pressed something on the box.

"Phew, I'm glad that's over. Lizzie was really, really excited." Darcy sighed. "Family. Loads of fun." Darcy felt of the butter, and determined that it was not quite squishy enough for their purposes. She grabbed another stool and sat down.

"Who is Lizzie?" asked Legolas.

"Lizzie is my little sister—err, younger sister—she's actually the tall one in the family—that I think I mentioned at some point. She's three years younger than me and just got out of undergrad and she's just obsessed with finding her soulmate at this point. She's super jealous, I can tell. She always had the "good soulmark" and I always had the messed up one, sorry. But hers just says "Hello," while mine says "A star shines on the hour of our meeting," and so in that very short conversation the balance of power totally shifted in my favor!" Darcy gave a fist pump in the air.

"Bennet, on the other hand, is my elder brother. He's starting a residency in the fall so right now he's looking for an apartment in … I think it's Houston. Anyway, he's out on a date. Err, he's courting a young lady."

"Courting?" Legolas was most curious. "Are they matched, then, as we are?"

"Naah," said Darcy, turning the oven on to pre-heat. "He met his match in fourth grade and the family moved to Detroit, so he hasn't seen her or heard from her in like twenty years. When it's time, she'll pop up again. Maybe on Facebook or maybe she'll have moved to Houston when he gets there. But in the meantime, that doesn't mean he can't pursue other people."

Legolas looked at Darcy, concerned. "I don't understand, why would he pursue someone who is not his match?"

Darcy reached behind him for the butter and threw it into the mixer—"Because, Legolas, sometimes you just want a connection with another person. You don't have to be soulmates to be good for one another, or to fall in love or to have children with, marry, whatever." Because her back was turned, she couldn't see Legolas's horrified expression.

She continued, "Here's an example, and I'll need you to be discrete about this because it's not really my tale to tell, but Bruce? Dr. Banner that you met earlier? His parents were soulmates. Pretty sure his dad killed his mom by beating her to death. So, wouldn't it have been better if she had, oh, I dunno, taken the kids and found a nice guy who wasn't her soulmate but an actual decent human being?"

Legolas's heart was broken for Bruce. Very few elves were orphaned, and in the very long memories of elves, he could not think of a single instance where one parent had killed another, not even during the Kinslaying, ages before Legolas was born. He couldn't help but agree with Darcy, but such agreement made him feel…unclean, somehow.

"How terrible for him," said Legolas, sadly. "I cannot imagine such a fate." Darcy remained silent, and began measuring the flour and the sugar and the brown sugar when it occurred to her.

"So do you guys have sugar in Middle Earth?"

"Sugar?" Legolas cocked his head slightly, curious.

Darcy held out the bag of brown sugar, "Hold out your hand," and the poured a tiny amount into Legolas's palm. "It's very sweet, like candy."

Legolas's eyes lit up, and he brought his palm to his mouth, licking the sugar from it with his very pink, very wet tongue. __Dear Legolas, let me introduce you to my friend "RediWip" and—__ Legolas grinned, pleased at the sweetness, "No, we have no such confection in Middle Earth, to my knowledge."

"Ahh, yeah, okay." Darcy stared at his mouth a moment longer and shook her head, as if to clear it, and then went back to measuring. Monkey bowls of measured ingredients began to litter the countertop. She dragged the mixer—black with red and yellow flames- over to the island and plugged it in. "Okay, so, here's how you make Grandma Lewis's Super-Secret Chocolate Cookies."

"First, you measure everything out and put the oven on to heat." He was happy to see that not everything was entirely different. Ovens here had many similarities to elvish ovens, albeit elvish ones were somewhat larger and usually located in a room far away from where persons not working there might be. The fuel source was evidentially different, as elves used wood and he saw no such wood pile in his visits here. Darcy nattered on about the various ingredients as she threw them into the mixer, which held Legolas's attention.

"Another machine, this one for …stirring?"

Darcy nodded, keeping up a stream of conversation "Got it in one, Legolas. Good job." She added the dry ingredients, naming them off, and then grabbed a vial from the counter, "And, of course, the secret ingredient."

As he was sitting on the stool, they were the same height, conveniently. Darcy leaned toward Legolas. "Come closer" she whispered, "it's a secret." Legolas leaned in, and Darcy pressed the jar into his hand. She stepped closer to him, canting her head along the line of his jaw, so close he felt her breath along his cheek. "The secret ingredient," she whispered into the shell of his ear, causing gooseflesh to erupt on his arms, "is cinnamon." Her nose __nuzzled__ his ear—surely an accident, he thought. But, oh, what an accident. He unconsciously leaned into her caress, his eyes closed. Darcy ghosted an open-mouthed caress over his earlobe, his jawline, the very edge of his mouth, a phantom kiss. And no accident, he thought, despite its evanescence. She released him, smiling as he opened his eyes.

They looked at each other a moment, silent. Then she seized the cinnamon his hand and turned, throwing a dash in. Then, she grabbed a couple of cookie sheets and started divvying up the batter with a small ice cream scoop. Once she had one loaded, she put it in the oven, disconnected the beater, and came back over to Legolas. "Jarvis, let me know when they're done, okay?"

"Yes, Ms. Lewis."

"The dough is totally my favorite part of cookie-making," Darcy leaned against the counter across from Legolas. She swiped a finger down the edge of the beater and put her finger in her mouth, sucking the sweet dough from her finger and offering the beater to Legolas. "Try some." Legolas carefully took the beater from her. "You can either eat it with your fingers or you can just put the beater in your mouth like a fork," she said. Slowly, cautiously, Legolas brought the dough-laden beater to his mouth, carefully eating some dough. He moved the dough around in his mouth, chewed the chocolate chips, and then, just as carefully repeated the procedure. There was not one crumb or smear of dough on him; he remained impeccably clean. __Elves__.

She had planned this little encounter with the idea that she'd push the envelope further than she had just a moment ago, and bite the beater at the same time as him or brush imaginary batter from his mouth or …something to get the ball rolling. But watching his careful enjoyment of the dough, and his obvious pleasure at her prior caress…and considering his lack of "envelope pushing" on his end—she was a bit conflicted. She was reminded of Thor's words. "Some elvish courtships have taken decades…Legolas is quite forward among his people…." Sighing, she decided to back off for the moment. Really, she was just happy to be around him, letting him experience her whole world in his way. A few days either way…well, what did it all matter? She __could__ be patient…it wasn't her strong suit…or even her medium suit, but… it'd do.

"The cookies should be done, ma'am." said Jarvis.

"Thanks Big J." Darcy took them off the cookie sheet and put them on a rack to cook, and then dolloped out another set of cookies. "So what do you think about the dough?"

"It is odd. It is both very sweet and somewhat bitter. And then the texture is of a liquid in part and a solid in part." said Legolas, contemplatively.

"Well, I will trade you that beater for this cookie," said Darcy, handing him a very warm cookie and throwing the beater into the sink. "Do you drink milk? Few things go as well with a warm cookie as a glass of milk." Darcy reached into the fridge and grabbed the milk jug and poured a couple of glasses.

Legolas accepted the milk—that had an odd, thin texture, and it was very __cold__—and promptly put it down, forcing himself to swallow. He took a bite of cookie, and found that he enjoyed the melty sensation and the sweetness of what had been the dough. He made a small sound of approval.

"Ahh, you like cookies, then?" Darcy beamed at him, and Legolas nodded, his mouth full.

Once he swallowed his bite, he asked, "From what animal does this milk come?"

Jarvis piped up, "It comes from a dairy cow, sir. It might be strange to you due to that it has had all the buttermilk removed, and quite a bit of the fat as well." Legolas nodded, and then felt odd about nodding to the disembodied voice.

"I understand. Most of our milk comes from goats. In Rohan, they drink horse's milk." He grimaced, slightly. "I think this cows' milk may be an acquired taste. May I have some water, please?"

Jarvis piped up, "The cookies should be done, Ms. Lewis."

Darcy took the cookies out of the oven, and grabbed a glass. "Do you want ice?" she asked.

"Ice?"

"We usually drink our water iced," she explained. Where did she get ice in the middle of summer?

"From whence does this ice come?"

"Uhh, you remember the fridge, right, it's a machine that keeps things chilled. Well, there's a freezer, and that keeps stuff frozen. So we invented "ice makers" a few years back and now there's ice all year round." Legolas's composure was wearing thin. Rainbow bridges, vials of blood, disembodied voices, cow's milk and now ice all year round, not to mention Darcy's …torment of him. His courtship was certainly unlike he had ever imagined it to be.

"Then, please, may I have some ice, too?" asked Legolas, feeling oddly wasteful in a world of plenty.

Darcy went to the fridge and, pressing the various buttons, made him a glass of ice water. "When you want more water, just hit this button with the water drop on it, and push the glass against this little black thing here, and more water will come out this tiny spigot, here." She gestured. Legolas drank the glass of water. Then, he pushed his glass against the panel, and water poured into his glass. He drank that glass, too, and finished off his cookie.

"Well, I'm glad you're enjoying the filtered water we have here in Stark Tower." Darcy smiled at him, and then began to clean up a bit, putting the cookies in a plastic container and washing the beater and the bowl. When the final batch was done, she let them cool only briefly before putting them in the container.

"Let's go get you settled into your room before…an early-ish dinner." She walked back to the Thor-level common room, then went down one of several hallways that came off of it. "Okay, you're directly across from me. Thor and Jane are down the hall on the other side of the common room." Legolas nodded. Darcy opened Legolas's door. "Normally I'd knock, but it's important to show you around a bit first. Standard bedroom furniture, and this is your closet if you want to hang anything up." She said, opening a door on the side. "You guys had armoires back in Middle Earth. This works the same way, though."

She opened another door and stepped in. "This is your bathroom; if you're in public they're called restrooms." She went to the sink, "Just like in the kitchen, there's a spigot here, and these taps turn on the hot or cold water."

She went over to a large garden tub in one corner, "And this is the bathtub if you'd prefer to bathe. When we get to the Cabin, I'll show you what these," she gestured at the jets along the side, "do. But I think that can wait." Turning, she walked over to where a shower ran along the wall—it was the type that had no shower curtain because the walls of the entire room were tiled. Probably a bitch to clean—but someone else's problem.

"Now if you prefer to shower instead of bathe—and if you've never showered, it's pretty awesome and you should try it—this is the same kind of setup, just turn the tap on, and water comes out like a …waterfall … from there" she pointed. "If you turn this tap, too, it also comes out from over there," she pointed again.

She walked over to a door imbedded in the wall, "This is your water closet, or your toilet or your commode or however you want to put it. You basically use this like you would the…outhouse or the bush or the chamber pot or whatever, taking care not to get anything on the seat or on the floor." She gave him a slightly evil eye on behalf of women everywhere, then continued. "Then when you're done, you hit this button on top here, and the …excrement or whatever, it gets flushed away. See?" Darcy flushed the toilet. "Any questions?" Legolas shook his head. "You can always ask Jarvis, too."

"One last door to look through and then I'm going to go force Jane to eat." She opened the door to the closet. "This is where the extra blankets are kept, as well as washcloths, towels, soap, shampoo, and conditioner and so on. If you have any questions about how to use any of it, let me know, or just ask Jarvis."

"You got it?" she asked him, walking back into his bedroom and turning toward him.

"Yes. It is much to understand, but…" he smiled softly, trailing off. "It is nice to have something to learn. And it is wonderful to be in your company."

"You want to come down and help me harass Jane and Bruce and Tony into eating something?" she asked. "Or you can go work out…err, train, rather… with Thor, he's probably in the gym-slash-training area. Or you could stay here a while and just sort of rest. It's been a big day for you."

Legolas considered the options. "Perhaps we could invite Thor as well and train after the meal?"

"Sure thing!"

The pair set off, headed back to the R&D floor. Darcy grabbed the cookies on the way out, and Legolas fetched his bow and arrows, leaving his long knives behind. The three science nerds were working hard, as per usual.

"Okay you guys," Darcy said, interrupting them. "When's the last time you guys ate?"

Jane responded blearily, "What time is it?"

"Quarter after five, Jane."

"A.M. or P.M.?"

"Wrong answer! Put the science down and let's get you a green vegetable and some fruit and maybe some chicken…" she started ushering Jane into a chair. "What about you, Brucey-poo?"

"Sandwich and an apple at noon, Darce."

"Aww, you're always on top of things. I'm proud." Darcy turned to the final member of the science cadre, bracing both her hands on Tony's desk and leaning over. Her chest caught his gaze and he did a double-take.

"Hey, that's false advertising, Lewis." Tony's eyes were still fastened on Darcy's chest. She looked down at her t-shirt just as he began to speak again. "You are not a self-rescuing princess! You're a Thor-rescued peasant!"

Just as Darcy opened her mouth to respond, Legolas stepped forward and spoke up, his voice ringing with authority. "It smacks of the deepest hypocrisy that you should accuse her of some low birth when you have not yet made any claim to some great lineage yourself," Legolas glared at Tony, every inch the Prince of the Greenwood at the moment. His posture rigid, his eyes cold, his speech clipped. "The circumstances of her humble birth aside, she is the soulmate of a prince, and her bloodline is to be considered royal as it indeed will be when she becomes my wife." __Wife? What? Dude. Marriage? Are you freakin' kidding me? __thought Darcy. __And to think I fussed at Lizzie for this kind of talk. __ "and as such I expect you to treat her with the respect she deserves, both as your friend and as my mate. Your impertinent and salacious gaze upon the form of my intended offends my lady's honor, and such poor behavior necessitates an apology on your part."

Darcy colored a bright tomato shade that not even Jane had witnessed before. "Uh, excuse us." She pulled Legolas along behind her to the exit.

"What was that?"

"That man insulted your birth, after he regarded you most inappropriately, and as the person most highborn in the room, I felt it was my duty to prevent a man whose situation will never change from impugning upon yours, whose situation will change very soon."

"Okay, what Tony said was a joke, and it is __not okay__ to assume that we're getting married or whatever anytime that could be described as "very soon"." Darcy made little air quotation marks and then realized that he had no idea what the gesture meant.

"I did not hear anyone laugh," he replied, icily. "And as to my assumptions, we are a mated pair. Is it not true here, as it is in Middle Earth, that most pairs marry?"

Darcy threw her hands up, frustrated. "Not every pair marries! And, it was sarcasm, Legolas. And even though it wasn't a great joke, he was __trying__ to be funny."

"It was not amusing. And the fact remains that his gaze lingered upon your form in an inappropriate manner. And until such time as it becomes apparent that we shall not wed, it is reasonable to assume that we will."

"Whoa, __dude__. I don't even know what to do with that." Darcy put her hands on her hips and stared at the ceiling for a minute. "…Look, you let me worry about Tony. Tony is harmless. If I had been offended, I would have put him in his place."

"That would have been most unsuitable," Legolas frowned. "It is not that I think you incompetent. It is that a female should not be left without one to defend her."

"Whoa, dude, back off on the machismo! Women and men are **__**equals**__**, homeslice. And you have absolutely no right to "defend" me when I don't see any reason for that defense!"

"Darcy, as your soulmate I do have a right to defend your honor from attack. I should expect no less of you, should some Midgardian maid perform a comparable ill-advised deed."

"But I don't need your help, Legolas. I'm a grown woman, I've been taking care of snarky men and handsy men and skeezy professors and bad bosses and on and on since I was about fourteen years old! I can handle it." Darcy sighed and tried really, __really__ hard to see things from his angle. "Look, you don't like dudes checking me out—that's legit. But you can't fight with them because 1, I'm totally hot and 2, as a result they're going to check me out. 3, if you fought with everyone who checked me out in this city, we wouldn't make it three blocks without some kind of __murderdeathkill__. So you're just going to have to accept that Regular Earth is a lot different than Middle Earth."

Legolas sniffed delicately. "It is apparent."

"And for marrying—you can think that in your head, but you can't __tell people that__, as in, not even me, because I am not even remotely close to that level of commitment and if you talk like that you'll come off really weird here—err, people will think you are strange." __Like the biggest dang creeper in the history of Regular Earth, dude. Four days. I've known you like FOUR days. __Legolas's eyes widened. He had not considered that there were different soulmate customs on Midgard, and to hear that he might be doing a poor job of things upset him.

Darcy sighed. "So here's what needs to happen. You need to go back in there. I'll tell Tony that he needs to apologize for not keeping his eyes on my face. You're going to apologize for misunderstanding his princess-peasant joke. Then everyone's happy. After that, we're going to have a nice supper and then we'll head to bed early." __Had I known he was going to be this cranky, we'd have taken a sensory-deprivation time-out before coming down here. __"Are you down with the plan, Legolas?"

"So long as the Master Stark's apology is sincere, I see no need not to put this behind us."

"Okay then." Darcy pushed her hair out of her face. "I think we just had our first fi—err, argument—Legolas."

"It is not an experience that I hope to repeat, but I understand that this is unlikely," he said, softly.

Darcy decided that Legolas was probably a touch overstimulated, and thus she wouldn't introduce him to the concept of "kiss and make up" as of yet. They walked back into the R&D room. Two of three scientists wouldn't look at Darcy, while the third was wearing a smirk. Suddenly suspicious, Darcy said, "Jarvy, tell me you didn't just record everything from next door and play it back in here."

Tony spoke up before Jarvis began speaking, "—Lew-Lew, there's no reason to be paranoid. It's not like we couldn't hear you through the glass anyway. Jarvis was just making sure that we didn't misunderstand anything. And let me just go ahead and speed things along by saying that I apologize for my, I believe it was 'impertinent and salacious' gaze—and I admit that it was dumb with your boyfriend in the room. Old habits, et cetera. And I think Blonde Ambition—rather, our elfy friend here has something to say, too?" Tony grinned, clearly enjoying the situation and, of course, not being quite as sincere as Legolas wanted. He looked at Legolas pointedly.

"I regret misunderstanding your attempt at humor." Legolas spoke, stiffly.

Tony smirked, savoring the moment. "Let's eat."

* * *

><p>Notes: I just want to thank you guys for reading all that. I think chapters are going to be longer from here on out, because it's really hard to write from Legolas's perspective without being super longwinded... He's like an anthropologist from Middle Earth, studying our world at this point. And I'm pretty sure I referenced at least two LOTR fanfictions in that chapter, (the Legolas espionage one and the Harad legend thing) so if you know to whom the original idea belongs, I'll be happy to put a little credit here. I hope you enjoyed it; I hope you'll let me know what you think of it. Next chapter is-Dinner, Tech talk, Leggy discovers cars, they go to the cabin, they meet other people. Also, do you think the ship name should be "Darcolas" or "Legocy?" Eh? Ehhhhh?<p> 


	11. Chapter 11

**Note: An update, at last! My fault entirely, the lapse of time; nonetheless, hope you enjoy. Again, all credit goes to the tremendous, stupendous... TAMARAMA! Remember to review!**

The Scientists Three, Thor, Darcy, and Legolas were joined by Pepper on the Avengers' common floor. The common floor contained the Guinness record holder for "largest multimedia center in a private home"—or so Darcy figured. It was part of an open area that also served as communal dining room, kitchen, and bar. There was another floor for the two gyms—one being the "work out" type of gym and the other being the "fight holograms and/or robots" type of gym. The residential floors took up the remainder of the upper floors, one shared by Tony and Pepper, another by the spysassins, Steve, and Bruce, and another by Thor, Jane, Darcy and now Legolas. Darcy thought of it as the "Thor Floor" and had spent some time trying to make it a single word, "Go to the Thoor" made it sound like she was saying "Go to The Thor" and the demi-god had enough of an ego already thank you very much.

Tony and Darcy introduced Legolas to pizza. Jarvis had ordered several varieties –meaty, veggie, a basil-and-mozzarella thing for Pepper and a ham and pineapple that no one remembered asking for. The meat pizzas and the vegetable pizzas each came in three crust options: pan, hand-tossed, and thin crust. The lack of distinct courses and the self-serve nature of it were more…familiar than the meals to which he was accustomed, other than on the road, of course.

Legolas decided, after trying several varieties, that the best pizzas were Pepper's basil and mozzarella and the thin-crusted vegetable pizza favored by Doctor Banner. The pan pizzas turned his stomach a bit, especially the meatiest pizzas. The meaty thin crust one was nearly edible, but it still disgusted him somewhat. It was likely the fault of so many varietals of meats being on one small slice of bread. It was…odd. Nevertheless, he ate his fill and watched as Darcy's friends did the same.

Darcy was in her element. So alive, laughing and joking. She flexed her biceps at Thor, who squeezed them playfully, saying he was "cowed by Milady's show of arms." She kept Bruce's plate full of the vegetable pizza, she kept everyone engaged in the conversation, even Legolas. It was a pleasure to behold.

She got up to wash her hands from the greasy mess the pizza had made, her dark curls dancing around her as she moved. She dried her hands and came back to her seat, reaching over and patting Legolas's thigh. He smiled inwardly at the slightly improper display of affection. When Thor had "made his ancestors proud" of his enjoyment, he and Legolas went to the training floor, while Darcy and Jane grabbed their friend Jose Cuervo and a margarita mixer from the fridge.

"Pepper, you in on 'Darcy dishes everything to us girls' party?" asked Jane, jostling the bottle of Cuervo in a way she probably thought was encouraging.

Tony interrupted, "Please, I'm a much better girlfriend than Pepper. Pepper's always responsible and never gets crazy and won't even do any of the fun dares." He sighed theatrically. "No, I guess you'll just have to take me with you instead. I'll even paint your toenails."

"Ha. Ha. Tony's funny," said Pepper, shouldering him aside. "But I have to be on a plane in two hours, so I need to get cracking."

Darcy rolled her eyes, "Pepper, when you own the plane they wait for you." She touched the end of the CEO's nose. "Normal-people excuses don't work for you anymore." She winked. "I'm sure Tony will fill you in later. Anyway, JANE AND I are going to go work on tomorrow's hangover."

"Aww, but …nail polish! I'll let you put mascara on me, Lewis!" called Tony.

"Next time!"

Moments later, the sound of Darcy's blender, named "BLENDOR THE CRUSHINATOR" echoed throughout the Thoor, err, the Thor Floor, as Darcy and Jane created frozen concoctions. Jane preferred to use things like "measuring" and "science," whereas Darcy's motto was "What, we're drinking this for the taste?"

"So, tell me about LegOH!las," said Jane with a wink. "He's pretty hot," Jane paused a moment, as if mentally comparing him to Thor and only having him come slightly shy of the mark. "If you like your men on the thin side."

Darcy laughed, "Nope. We're not going to talk about me and Legolas and any interesting pet names that might necessitate the stress on the 'O'. Nope. We're going to have a boy-discussion free night of ridiculousness. We can talk about Natasha and her hotness, we can talk abouuuut things I learned in Middle Earth. We can talk about the bifrost. But we're not discussing whether Legolas's eyes are cerulean or azure." She raised her glass and saluted Jane with it, drinking the sweetly-sour, tangy drink.

Jane giggled. "Oh here's to Sister Darcy, Sister Darcy, Sister Dar…cy…" she trailed off lamely at Darcy's expression.

Darcy looked at Jane, deadpan. "It is way too early in the night for drinking songs, Dr. Foster. Let's try to keep this at a mature level, shall we?"

Jane chewed her lip and looked away, contrite. "I'm sorry, Dar, I just … haven't let any steam off since you left and I missed you, and—"

Darcy couldn't hold it in any longer and busted out laughing, "Oh, Jane, I was just messing with you." And for the next several hours they discussed the feeling of the Bifrost, whether Jane's accidental Einstein-Rosen bridge felt different than the actual Heimdall-induced Bifrost (answer: yes, it's much less terrifying when you asked for it and know to expect it). They discussed the role of women in society, both currently (the difficulties of being a Ph.D. in a male-dominated field) and historically (the difficulties of convincing one's maid to allow one to wear pants), and other such topics.

A couple of hours later, Darcy was curled into a small, drunken ball on the couch, resting. "But I wanted to talk about Leg-'oh-la-la'-s" said Jane, plaintively. "You can't fall asleep yet," she whined, resting her head on her friend's hip and curling up next to her.

"Too late," mumbled Darcy. "I'm asleep. Now shh."

"But, we'll never know if his eyes are cerulean or azzhure without further dish-hic!-cussshion," slurred Jane. Darcy drifted off into that mostly-asleep but still somewhat-awake state of consciousness. Some minutes later, she heard the doors opening and then felt Jane's head leave her hip. Arms went under her, and she opened her eyes as blonde hair fell in her face as she was lifted and carried, bridal style to her bedroom. He laid her on the bed, went to her cluttered bathroom, procured a cup, filled it, and brought it to her.

"I fear you will be worse for the wear tomorrow morning," he murmured, pushing her hair back from her face. "Would you like some water?"

Darcy eyed the glass, "No. But I should drink it. Can you go find the Advil in the bathroom? I should pregame my hangover." Legolas went through the bathroom until he found a small container labeled "Advil" and brought it back to her. Swallowing two of the tablets, Darcy laid back down. "Thanks, Legolas," and like that, she was asleep.

Legolas gazed at her, slightly scandalized at being alone in her room with her, but given that Jane and Thor shared actual chambers, as did Tony and Pepper, it seemed that the rules themselves were scandalous, here. He picked up her hand and looked at her soulmark, her wrist wrapped with his words. He rubbed his thumb over his writing, laid her hand down on the bed, and left the room.

Moving day dawned too early for Darcy. Blearily, she went to her bathroom, turned on the taps and showered while Jarvis played "Wake Up Playlist #3," consisting of numerous pop songs about happiness and smiles and sunshine—perfect for a grumpy, crabby riser such as slightly-hungover Darcy pre-caffeine. What the heck does a "room without a roof" have to do with being happy? That doesn't even make sense.

Finally showered and begrudgingly awake, Darcy threw her Captain America robe on, marched into the kitchen and started the coffee pot. Legolas opened his door as she was returning. When he saw her state of undress, he averted his gaze.

"Mmming," Darcy mumbled as a greeting, and then went back into her room, shutting the door behind her.

She brushed her teeth and dried her hair, styling some curl into it. She threw on some makeup, red lips and neutral eyes, plenty of eyeliner and mascara, filled in her eyebrows like a boss. _ That's what I want on my tombstone: "Here lies Darcy Lewis. Her brow game was strong."_ Then, the thought flitted across her mind like a recalcitrant butterfly._ I wonder if I should hyphenate if Legolas and I marry. Darcy Lewis-Thranduilion is a mouthful, and I think since it's one of those funky "son of" names that I can't take anyway. So, here lies Darcy Lewis, then._

Approximately four seconds later, she yelled "What the crud?!" and threw a lip balm at her reflection, storming out of the bathroom. She was totally not that kind of girl—in her family, that was Lizzie's role. Unlike her sister, Darcy didn't put her name with her boyfriend's name and "see how it sounded." She didn't write Mrs. Darcy Smith on her notebooks or joke about her boyfriends as "husbands" or any of that other crap that other women did. It's not that she didn't want to marry someday, it's just that that day was in the nebulous future. As in, somewhere past some nebula, that far away. Light years ahead. (Nevermind that she'd actually traversed several light years and possibly a nebula or two in her sojourn to Middle Earth and back, but such reasoning did not occur to our intrepid heroine.)

With that line of thought completely and resolutely out of her head, she threw on a sundress perfect for traveling in, threw a bunch of clothes and shoes willy-nilly into her suitcase, and sat on it to make it fit. Her method of packing wasn't "packing" so much as "Eh, I can always wash something if I run out."

Finally, she was satisfied by the array of possessions that were in her pack and her messenger bag. If she forgot anything, well, someone else would bring something she could use. And the Cabin wasn't so remote that they couldn't go shopping at a big box store nearby. She opened her door, dragged her suitcase into the hall, and went to get her morning java.

Thor and Jane and Legolas were seated at the Thor Floor dining table, drinking Darcy's coffee and eating Darcy's Pop-Tarts. Well, they were communal Pop-Tarts, but still. She was about to be a little crabby about it when she realized that there was a silvery pack of Pop-Tarts hanging out in front of the chair next to Legolas. How thoughtful. She grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down.

"Good Morning, Darcy."

"Mornin'" she said.

Jane grunted, not enthused.

"We have introduced Legolas to the delicacy of Pop-Tarts. He seems most pleased," said Thor.

Legolas nodded, "They are very sweet, but good. Jane put one in the toasting device for me, and I particularly enjoyed the Tart warm. Thor tells me that these come in a bevy of flavors, including "brown sugar" which was that sweet I tried last night." He smiled, happy to have connected last night's knowledge to this morning's.

Darcy couldn't help but smile. Pop-Tarts, bridging culture gaps since 2011.

After the last of the coffee and Pop-Tarts were consumed, Thor went to train more, while Legolas went to test his disguise-tech, escorted by his intended and Doctor Foster. Legolas wasn't sure exactly what a Doctor was, but he knew that whatever the case was, Banner and Foster were Doctors. He made a note to ask Jarvis about it when next they were alone.

To no one's surprise but Legolas's, Tony wasn't in the science-space yet. Tony was even less of a morning person than Darcy. Despite this, everyone got to work disassembling and packing up Foster's rag-tag equipment as well as the necessities Bruce would need to continue his work. After the third oscilloscope was carefully put into its protective packaging, Tony showed up.

"Okay, Lord Legolas," Tony smirked, holding out either end of a thick necklace. "It's time to try out your new jewelry." He motioned for Legolas to sit on a stool. "Pull your hair up, Rapunzel." Legolas made a note to ask Jarvis what a Rapunzel was in addition to asking what a Doctor was.

Tony clasped the necklace around Legolas's neck, and moments later, the ends of Legolas's ears disappeared. Darcy peeped over Jane's desk and offered her assessment of it. "Looks great, Tony," she said, handing Legolas a small mirror from her messenger bag.

"It'll do for when we're in the car. When we're around a lot of people who might be around him for extended periods, it should probably be set to Setting Number Two. Jarvis, if you will." Legolas's former elvish glow was now subdued; he looked like a model with clear skin and long hair, but he looked infinitely more human.

"I look unwell," said Legolas, looking at his reflection. "At least, among my people I look as though I am grieving." He thought with a pang that this is how he would look in seventy years or so, when Darcy's heart had beat its last. The wave of sadness that emanated from him was one that even Tony picked up on.

Tony patted him, and then wondered why. Then, smirking, he said, "Oh, but I can do one better. Jarvis, make Legolas better-looking." Darcy snorted; there were probably zero men on this planet who would ever hope to be as good looking as Legolas. Legolas's face morphed into Tony's carefully groomed one, right down to moles and eyebrows. "Or perhaps you're feeling more patriotic." And Legolas's face again changed, this time into Steve's.

Darcy interrupted the parade of faces as Legolas's expression was dark. He is having None. Of. This. "How does Legolas control it?"

"Every party needs a pooper, that's why we invited you," Tony sang to Darcy. "He just sets it before he goes out by asking Jarvis."

Legolas immediately spoke up, "Jarvis, I would most appreciate it if you would return me to the first disguise, please." The familiar face with its inner light and now-tipped ears came into view. Legolas reached through the Hologram to his ear-tip, and satisfied that his ear was still whole, gave the mirror back to Darcy.

"Jarvis, can you just set it so that when he goes out the disguise changes to that option automatically?" asked Darcy. Jarvis assented and they agreed it would simplify things somewhat.

"One last thing," began Tony, "The middle part here actually contains a panic button. So, if for any reason you are taken prisoner or are in danger or anything like that, hit the button and we'll come calling." He looked pointedly at Darcy. "But they only work when you wear them, right Darcy?"

"What?" Darcy jumped a bit, having been daydreaming a bit since the disguise was sorted out.

"Panic buttons. Our civilian allies—Pepper, Jane, Darcy—are supposed to wear them at all times. Now you're part of that list, Legolas," said Tony, turning to the elf. "Your girlfriend pretty much always forgets hers, though."

Legolas made a mental note to ask Jarvis about girlfriends, too. Girlfriends and doctors and Rapunzels. "Meaning what, then?" asked Legolas.

"Meaning that if our favorite taser-wielding Pop-Tart wrangler gets abducted by the enemy, we have no way of knowing where she is." Tony gave an uncharacteristically serious look to Legolas. "Make no mistake, Darcy, Pepper, Jane—they've been in danger before. They will be again. And that little panic button also tells me exactly where she's at. So if you could talk your wubby-woo into actually wearing hers, it'd make the rest of us feel a lot better about her chances out there."

Legolas nodded. "Darcy's is also a necklace?"

Tony shook his head. "It's a watch—a really nice watch, I might add." He gestured to his own timepiece.

Legolas nodded again, his thoughts on how to encourage Darcy to protect herself with Tony's "panic button."

Darcy, Jane and Bruce finished gathering the science gear. "Tony, when's the rental going to be here?" asked Jane.

Tony looked at his watch, "Jarvis?"

Jarvis intoned, "The rental company should be here within the next ten minutes, however there is significant midtown traffic today."

Tony nodded, "Is everyone all packed up and ready to go, then?"

"Thor and I packed yesterday," said the resident astrophysicist.

Darcy added "I packed this morning. You, Legolas?"

"My trunk remains in the same state as it was in when we arrived yesterday."

Bruce nodded his preparedness.

Tony clapped his hands together, "Great! Then we're just waiting on Clint and Natasha and the rental cars and we should be good to go, I think."

A couple of hours later, after very brief introductions to Legolas, Clint and Natasha packed within minutes. Everyone loaded up into a fleet of rental cars—except Tony and Pepper, who took some low-slung gorgeous thing out of the garage, speeding away. Huh, Peps must have gotten out of that trip. Or already gotten back.

Moments later Darcy's StarkPhone lit up as Jarvis intoned, "Mister Stark advises that the last one there is a rotten egg."


	12. Chapter 12

**Note: The writing of a dear friend, Tamarama, posted here with her permission. She asks, what is everyone's favorite part?**

In the course of a very long life, there are certain memories that define an elf. He remembered his mother singing to him as an elfling, a song of the forest and of love. He remembered his father, and later his father's master-at-arms, teaching him the bow. The thousands of hours and an immeasurable number of practice shots before shooting was as natural and as easy as breathing. He remembered his first visits to the other notable elven kingdoms—Imladris, Lothlorien, and Mithlond. Mithlond had the dubious honor of having the most painful associations with it, due to that Mithlond is the city from which one leaves Arda to travel to Valinor. That visit to Mithlond to escort his mother was even more painful than that of visiting Lothlorien after Gandalf's fall.

He remembered other times, too, times where he was scared or anxious. When, for the first time, he was forced to visit the dwarven kingdom for trade purposes, he was anxious at the responsibility that lay on his shoulders. When the dragon Smaug set Erebor and Dale alight, he was anxious and heart-sick for the people and dwarves who found themselves without homes and without succor from his father's kingdom. He knew true fear when, in the underground tomb of Moria, a cave troll apparently killed the Ringbearer. Frodo survived due to mithril armor, but mortal lives are snuffed so soon and so suddenly that one is prepared to grief their deaths at any given moment. Of course, the sight of the balrog was one of the most terrifying things he had ever seen in his life.

Then again, any warrior has a healthy appreciation and apprehension of battle, too, and Legolas bore the marks of a life lived as a warrior among his people. A life spent protecting the forest that he loved, leading his elves into battle against many, many spiders, as well as any other unfriendly forces.

But nothing had quite prepared him for this.

This conveyance was similar, at least in form, to a cart or wagon. Possessing neither horses nor reins, it was terrifying. It seemed to … glide or skate upon the extremely smooth road, as did all the other "cars" on this "high way" as Darcy had called it. And perhaps the conveyance by itself it would not have been so bad, except for the sheer amount of other cars on this high way.

He wondered if the street were slippery, as it was so smooth, with only occasional patches upon its otherwise glassy surface. And the lanes with their dots to indicate the space within which each car was to use…it was polite of them to follow these dots, really.

Legolas felt that he was doing well, his anxiety under the command of his renowned composure. That is, until another vehicle swerved into their lane, the nose of it coming straight for their front tire on Legolas's side. Darcy yanked the car to the edge of their own lane, and the car blasted a warning in time to Darcy's yelling and banging on the center of the "steering wheel". Legolas pulled out a long knife and prepared to do battle with the aggressive car. He was uncertain how precisely cars defended themselves, but he sat tensed and ready, determined to help Darcy in the defense of their vehicle.

"WHOA, LEGOLAS!" Darcy cried. "Put that away!"

Legolas gritted out, "We are under threat of attack, Darcy."

"I will perform the evasive maneuvers in this family, Legolas Thranduilion. Now put the knife away and chill the fu-…Chill out." With her peripheral vision, Darcy eyed the tense elf. The truck that had nearly broad-sided them speeded up and passed them on the right—another illegal, idiot-driver move from the jerk in the red truck…mother of pearl, were those truck nutz? For love of Thor, let Legolas have NOT seen those dangling from that guy's trailer hitch.

Legolas, meanwhile, was reflecting on Darcy's words. In this family he thought, warmth spreading throughout his chest for her words indicated, for the first time, her own intentions. It was an idle comment, as so much of what she said was, but it was revealing all the same. He did not have time to linger too long on her revealing statement, though. He put his knife away.

"Jarvis, advise the others that we're taking the state highway rather than the interstate, so we'll be late."

Moments later, "Mr. Stark advises that your current course will take you approximately seven more hours, whereas everyone else will be done in the next four hours or so. He suggests that you eat dinner on the road, and reminds you of your rotten egg status."

"Hah. Jarvy, tell Daddy not to wait up for us."

Legolas calmed down as the car slowed somewhat, while still going faster than he might have liked. Darcy played more classical music, and they talked over its swells and strains. He talked about the pressures of being the son of the Elven King of Mirkwood, and about being his father's son generally. Were his father not born the son of Oropher, Legolas still suspected that Thranduil would still be an elf of the highest standards of behavior and decorum, as Oropher had been long dead and had Thranduil wanted a more casual existence, he could have made it so. Legolas told her more of life in Mirkwood, of the giant spiders that had roamed his homeland, that were now dispersing after the fall of Dol Guldur some months ago. He explained more of the war with Sauron, of the Ringbearer's Quest and Legolas's role in the Fellowship. He even told her of his expectation of meeting his doom at the Morannon.

In the face of all this, Darcy felt a bit … lackluster. Sure, she had tasered a god, but really, she'd tasered a brought-to-mortality god-in-human's clothes. Beyond that, what was she? Good in an emergency, sure, especially if you needed your molars checked out by a very dexterous tongue mid-fight. A decent enough driver—handling Jane's ridiculous box truck was a trial in and of itself. But… other than a political science degree—which is very much a rigorous degree program, thankyouverymuch—what else did she have going on? She was never the one in the driver's seat of saving the world. She was always second-runner-up. Jane, Thor, Darcy. (Or Thor-Jane-Loki-Darcy but she wouldn't quibble about the order there.) Every-Avenger-Ever-plus-a-bunch-of-Shield-SI-peeps-and-then-Darcy. She'd never killed anything more heinous or sentient than a house spider, at least not deliberately, thinking of an unfortunate death-by-car and an unlucky, indecisive squirrel.

No, Darcy was an island of normal in a sea of extraordinary. She was the Scientist Whisperer, able to get scatter-brained geniuses to eat five vegetables a day (sometimes by hiding it in various sauces, just like Nana Lewis would), sleep at least six hours a night, and changing the "_ days without a lab accident" sign. She managed people. She was a supporting cast member, not the star.

Legolas was a star.

Darcy pulled her lip between her teeth, glad that Legolas couldn't hear her inner monologue. It wasn't like her to be so… insecure. She didn't have Jane or Tony or Bruce's brain, but she was a lot easier to live with than any of them. Had a lot less baggage. Then again, maybe she was due for a bout of insecurity, what with hanging out with Natasha-the-Catsuit-Clad and Perfectly Polished Pepper and…well Jane-the-Brain.

"I got an A in a class that everyone said the professor didn't give A's in," Darcy blurted. Legolas opened his mouth to ask what an A was… and a professor, but Darcy beat him to the punch. "—Which is to say that I did really well in a class people said no one did well in."

"What were you studying?"

"Western European Politics," she answered. "Everyone else's political system is a lot different than ours. We were basically the second democracy—the second 'people vote' society—and the only one since the Athenians, so ours is …clunky and out-moded by comparison to most of the parliamentary systems…." Darcy explained the difference in proportional representation systems and single-member district pluralities, and was a bit of a show-off.

Her efforts, however, missed the mark. Legolas pretended to be interested for several minutes. His father would have been all ears, but Legolas hated most political discussions as a result of being forced to live as the heir to the crown. A burden, but his ability to tune out this exposition on different political systems was a sign of his father's affection. Had Thranduil abdicated and followed Legolas's mother…Legolas shuddered at the thought.

The car pushed on into the evening, the conversation touched on many other topics, and eventually, they drifted into a comfortable silence.

"Are you hungry?" Darcy said over a particularly moving bit of Lisdt. At Legolas's nod, she pulled off the interstate and, surveying their options, they went into a diner.

The diner was basically an American anthropology course. There was a dude in the corner that was eating hashbrowns like they were his last meal—and then she noticed that he was probably coming down from a high. A little sweaty, a little shaky, a little dirty, gritting his teeth in withdrawal. Darcy shooed Legolas into a booth far, far away from the tweaking dude, not because she was personally anti-drug, she was a bit more libertarian in that sense. But the elf was unlikely to have "Dude coming down from his meth high" experience, and those guys could be a little bit unpredictable, at best. She didn't need a scene. Heck, she'd barely convinced him to leave his weapons in the trunk of the car.

A Rubenesque woman in a too-tight uniform deposited two water glasses at their table soon after they sat. Her hair was ginger, her lips red, her eyelashes false. Darcy sent her on her way with promises of decisiveness, handing Legolas a menu and telling him to figure out what sounded good.

And then, moments later, Legolas froze.

Elves, or at least Legolas (would the plural be Legolae or Legolases, Darcy wondered.), were not prone to fidgeting or unnecessary movement. But, at the same time, their chests expand when breathing and so on. Elves have a beauty to their forms and a control over their bodies that humans lack, and as a result, an elf freezing in place isn't quite the jerking-into-stillness that happens when most non-SHIELD agents try to remain unnaturally still unexpectedly.

When an elf freezes, they are the most beautiful of mannequins, their stillness perfect, and absolute.

And absolutely unnerving.

"Legolas?" Darcy asked. He looked up at her expectantly, and then dropped his gaze to somewhere behind her after a moment, his ears and cheeks coloring.

"You alright?" she inquired.

"Of course," he said into his menu. Darcy imagined that the tips of his ears were likely a maroon shade, and regretted that the StarkTech prevented her from enjoying the unease of her elf. She was unsure what set him off. Did the waitress give him the "come hither" stare?

And then Darcy noticed the aural problem in the restaurant.

She had pictured Legolas's introduction to modern music as being something where she built carefully-crafted playlists—like the very, very G-to-soft-PG rated traveling playlist waiting on her StarkPhone. She pictured them gradually moving from old-school songs like "Danny Boy" up to the Ella Fitzgearld era, breezing through the major musical transitions of the 1950's and 1960's, easing him into punk, new wave, neo-punk, and finally the more pop end of the rap spectrum. This process, she felt, would take somewhere in the neighborhood of six months.

But no, this diner had a jukebox that was presently playing Queen's "Fat-Bottomed Girls," which was a rated R song about band groupies, or so Darcy figured.

But, then, Darcy became just a little bit tired of playing nice and cushioning a 2200 year old man—elf, whatever—from the big, bad world of modern music.

Dangit, he was the soulmate of a feisty, vivacious and completely human woman.

"Fat-bottomed girls, you make the rockin' world go 'round!" Darcy belted along, fist in the air.

Legolas was mortified, momentarily. Wonder where that blush ends, thought Darcy, speculatively eyeing her soulmatch.

And then she giggled.

He smiled at her expression, a bit bigger than his normal grin.

And she laughed harder.

And he laughed, his beautiful laugh that made her heart thump loudly in her chest. It was less restrained than any other laugh she had heard from him and his eyes danced. He was so beautiful.

Her laughter ended on a high note as she snorted in a most undignified way, her chuckles dying off.

Smiling, he looked at her and took her hand across the table.

"I must ask, though," he said as his blue eyes turned serious, "What is a bike?"

* * *

><p><strong>Remember to review and tell your favorite thing so far!<strong>


	13. Chapter 13

"Take the next right, Ms. Lewis," said Jarvis. A gate that looked like it belonged on a cattle ranch blocked their path—but it was red with brass finishings, giving a clue as to the occupant of the drive. As she approached, it swung open on its own, clearly controlled by Jarvis. They ascended and descended several hills, the path narrowed and branches scratching at the car a bit.

"Jarvy, tell Tony there needs to be some maintenance done on his—" The car bottomed out into a particularly bad rut. "—Driveway."

"Mr. Stark was most distressed as to the condition of the road himself. It must have washed away in the spring showers. In fact, he made the Mach 5 lay in that pothole you just struggled through as the Bugatti drove over it. He made the Mach 7 hold back the shrubbery."

"What happened to the Mach 6?"

"Mr. Stark forgot his toothbrush and sent him back to the Tower."

Darcy rolled her eyes and bumped along the final curve, parking next to the other rental vehicles as Tony came out to greet them.

"Welcome, strangers," he said, his arms outstretched and his right hand holding the stem of something bubbly.

"Oh, Tony, be nice," said Pepper, coming out the door with a tray of champagne, a super soldier and a demi-god. "Here, Darcy, Legolas. Come in and relax."

"Just a sec, Pep, we gotta get our—" Without comment, Steve hoisted out Darcy's bag, while Thor picked up Legolas's trunk and threw it over his shoulder. "—stuff," Darcy finished lamely.

"Hannon le, Mistress Potts," said Legolas, taking the proffered champagne from a smiling Pepper. Tony clapped his hand on Legolas's shoulder, and leaning toward him, he gestured toward Pepper with his flute, "You know, Legster, it took me six months to get Miss, 'you may not speak to me in that manner' to go out with me after we met."

Handing Darcy the final flute, Pepper made a face at Tony, "Yes, and Mr. 'If you look as good from the front as the back, I just may marry you' deserved to wait twice that long."

"C'mon, Pep, you know I wasn't all that bad." Pepper snorted into her champagne in response, walking away from Tony and into the cabin. "Pep, Pep, you know I've apologized for that!" Tony called plaintively.

"No matter how many times you apologize for it, it will never make up for being born with that running down my ribs in your chicken-scratch."

Darcy laughed at the couple, "I guess having a foreign language on my wrist isn't as bad as it could have been."

Legolas sipped his champagne. "No. But it is far from ideal," he said thinking of his own soulmark. "My worst thought that was that you were an orc, speaking some variant of the Black Speech." He grimaced. "Gandalf put that fear to rest when we met in Imladris, but until recently it was a concern."

Darcy punched him lightly. "You thought I was an orc? Shame on you. I thought you had a speech impediment." She winked at him and followed the others indoors.

Entering the cabin, Legolas noted that calling such a palatial home a cabin was rather like calling his father's palace a cave. It was remarkable. Perhaps due to its "cabin" roots, it was made, largely, of hewn logs and chinking. Or, rather, the outside was. The inside was all tongue-and-groove paneling, in different wood shades. Blond woods, red woods, dark woods. Legolas could identify cherry, cedar and mahogany and even a few splashes of birds-eye maple.

While maintaining a rustic appearance, it was also the peak of Stark Tech. It wasn't all glass and chrome like Stark Tower. No, everything had a niche to sit in, or a recessed panel to disguise it when not in use, to hide its modernity with mundanity—but beautiful mundaneness. It was no gleaming tower, no light for all mankind, but rather a synthesis between rustic and modern that was seamless and beautiful. The Tower, given that each floor was a reflection on the occupants, and also given that it was intended to be the most technologically advanced building on Earth—no one could call it cozy or homey. But the Cabin was both of those things while being nearly as mind-blowing as the Tower.

Finding Steve and Thor coming out of two doorways, Darcy headed to her room. It was smaller than her room at the Tower, as it had an adjoining bathroom shared with, presumably, Legolas's room. Still, it contained a small seating area in front of a gas fireplace—completely unnecessary in mid-summer. Finding her room satisfactory, she took her hair down from its messy traveling bun and scratched her scalp. A soft knock from the doorway signaled her to the presence of her elf. Pulling her hands from her hair, she invited him in, ushering him into one of the chairs framing the fireplace.

"Do you want some help taking these down?" she ran her finger along a braid.

Legolas smiled, "I know that small braids like these look like much work, but in truth I have prepared them so many times that it is like breathing. Watch." He quickly found the end of his braid, pulled a small bit of leather from the end, and his hair just sort of straightened out. Must be an elf trick, Darcy thought. And with a few more pulls, the braid was undone.

Darcy raised her hand to his silken hair, pulling a large measure over his shoulder and searching within it for the opposing braid. Legolas closed his eyes and enjoyed her attentions. Some moments later, Darcy decided that she was going about finding the end of his braid wrong, and she began from the other end, tracing his braid from his ear—taking care not to stroke it by accident, although her fingers practically itched to do so—and pulling the braid from its hiding place. She worked the leather tie a moment and his hair straightened out from its confines. Pulling the plaits apart and up, again avoiding his ear, she smiled.

"You have beautiful hair," she said, coming to stand behind the armchair and pulling his hair up and over the back of the chair, letting the pale blond strands fall from her hand like grains of sand. She ran her fingers through it at the roots, massaging his scalp lightly, much as she would do to herself in the shower. Legolas made an appreciative noise. "I bet that feels good after being so tensed up in the car all afternoon and evening." Darcy drew her nails across the hairs at the back of his neck, listening to his quick intake of breath, and smiled. She pulled his shoulders back to rest on the back of the armchair and leaned over to kiss the top of his head. Grabbing her champagne flute from her dresser, she gestured to the door. "C'mon, let's go pester Tony and Pepper."

The large communal area was a combination living room, kitchen, bar, and dining room. It was presently full of Avengers and Stark Industries personnel. Tony, Thor, and Bruce were at the bar. Jane and Pepper were talking quietly on a loveseat. Clint and Natasha were engaging in what could loosely be called "playing darts" but it could also easily pass for some type of advanced tactical training. From the way Natasha was handling the darts, Darcy was pretty sure Natasha had used them in the pursuit of truth, justice, and the SHIELD and/or KGB way.

"Sup?" asked Darcy, coming to rest on a bar stool.

"We were just discussing plans for a Hulk Fun Run out here," said Tony.

"No, Tony, you were discussing a 'Hulk Fun Run' while I was pointedly ignoring you," said Bruce, running a hand through his fluffy hair.

"Banner, I will be happy to contain the Hulk," promised Thor.

"And it will let us collect data as to how quickly he can move and whether your anger threshold is higher when he's been allowed to play," continued Tony.

Steve spoke up from his sketchbook, "Plus, ideally we would figure out how long you're able to sustain the Hulk before transforming back. That could be critical information to know in the long term. Plus, since you can't remember what happens when you're Hulked, there are questions. Like—can you eat as the Hulk?"

The mild-mannered doctor fluffed his mop of hair again. "These are all valid concerns, but I can't help but think…." Darcy lost interest in their conversation and turned to find that Legolas was busy making himself at home with the marksman and the assassin. Which made sense, really, Darcy thought. It's not like he'd join the hen party, and he didn't exactly hit it off with Tony. Meanwhile Clint and Natasha are basically taking target practice. One of these things is not like the others, one of these things doesn't belong, Darcy hummed to herself.

Natasha looked over at Clint, licked her lips and gave a small nod. "We hear you're a bit of a marksman, Legolas."

Legolas nodded. "The bow is a traditional weapon for an elf, and I have practiced it lo these many years. These darts, however, I have never seen before."

Natasha arched a brow at him. "Darts are not a traditionally elven weapon, then?"

"No. Elves, at least those who prefer the arts of war, generally gravitate toward bladed weapons and archery. Eryn Lasgalen, where I am from, we produce some of the best archers in Arda," he said proudly. "Darts, though, are not a weapon of elves but rather of men. The men of Harad have a reputation for using darts as weapons with which to deliver poisons." Legolas fingered a dart, twirling it in his hands. "As I understand it, they will either blow the dart through a straw—obviously a much smaller dart—or they will wait for you to be close enough so that the dart can reach its destination manually."

Natasha smiled. Like a shark. "Men of my own heart, then." She pulled the dart from Legolas's grasp, "So this is a game called, coincidentally, 'Darts.'" Natasha walked Legolas through the rules, gesturing to the various rings and points-values. She ran a toe over a piece of dark wood in an otherwise blond wood floor, "You can't cross this line or your throw doesn't count. Give it a go."

Much like the bow, darts did not come naturally to Legolas. His first effort thunked solidly into the wood just beneath the dartboard. "Hmm. The fletching is loose," he said aloud, pressing the frill on the end of his dart firmly into the shaft, and letting it loose again.

Darcy grew quickly bored of watching Legolas and the SHIELD agents play darts. Nothing was quite as boring as watching others play a game you were bad at. Tuning back into Tony, she polished off her champagne. "Garcon, mas vino por favor."

Tony looked at her, deadpan. "How many languages were you butchering there, Lew-Lew?"

Darcy put a theatrical finger to her chin, pondering as the Thinking Man has for a century. "Prob-ab-ly three," she said, drawing it out. "Poss-ib-ly twooo." Darcy grinned, and Tony topped up her champagne. Darcy sauntered over to Jane and Pepper. "Private party or can anybody join?"

Pepper and Jane made room for Darcy, "So, big week, huh?" asked Pepper, expectantly.

"You could say that." Darcy grinned and spied on her soulmatch out of the corner of her eye.

"So tell us everything." The pocket-sized scientist leaned forward on her hands.

Sometime later, the game of darts concluded and Legolas walked over to the ladies, catching the end of their conversation.

"…And that's why some songs are earworms and others are not," said Jane.

"Well, that makes sense. I guess they figured that repetition thing out about the same time as auto-tune because all songs are nearly as repetitive as "Small World" these days," said Darcy, rising to meet Legolas. "How'd you do?"

Clint walked over, put one elbow on top of Legolas's shoulder and said, "He gave it the ol' college try. We agreed to take it up with the bow tomorrow. But good effort for a newbie." He clapped a hand onto Legolas's shoulder.

"'Til then," said Legolas, with a bow.

The gathering broke up not long after that—Darcy and Legolas begged off of another round as Darcy was already tired and, well, Legolas had experienced quite a day. Showing him to his door, she said, "Go in, and go into your bathroom." Following her instructions, he slid the pocket door into its nook—again, a fine feat of Midgardian engineering—only to find Darcy on the other end of an oblong bathroom containing a single bathtub/shower combo, a single commode, and vanities perched at opposing sides of the room. Facing the vanities were matching linen closets.

"So, here at the Cabin, things are more rustic, right? Or, I guess that's a relative term. At any rate, when you're in the bathroom, just come over to my side and lock the door, and whatnot so we don't walk in on each other bathing." Legolas nodded, slightly pinker. "But if you're just washing your face or brushing your teeth, then leave the door unlocked so I can use my sink over here." Legolas nodded his assent again.

"I guess I'm going to get ready for bed. So, speaking of teeth-brushing, I'm going to be right back with my toofbrush." Darcy went back to her room, unzipped her bag, and grabbed her cosmetics-and-hygiene bag. She was just beginning to stripe her toothbrush with toothpaste when Legolas came in from the other side of the room, carrying a leather satchel. _Is that a man-purse?_ He reached in, took a little "fluffy" twig, put it on the sink, pulled out a little jar, put the twig in the jar and brought it out, ready to brush his teeth.

"Whoa, whoa. I used those things in Middle Earth, there's no way that's as good as a regular toothbrush. Hold on." Darcy turned, opened her linen closet, and closed it, frustrated. Shelves of extra bedding and such, but no hygiene products. "Big J, where are the extra toothbrushes?"

"Ms. Potts believes them to be under the sink, Ms. Lewis." Giving the air a thumbs-up, Darcy bent and grabbed a wrapped, green, extra-soft toothbrush from under her sink, tossing it to Legolas. "Try that. I mean, you've had the same teeth for two thousand years, so I'm not sure that this is a great idea, but at the same time, can't hurt you." She shoved her toothbrush in her mouth and stared at the clock, waiting for the two minutes to go by.

Legolas opened the packaging, examining the toothbrush and its directions, then he put the toothbrush in the powder and brushed his teeth, albeit with 100% less foam than Darcy was producing. It was pleasant enough, but he doubted that his teeth were truly any cleaner despite the new addition to his hygiene accoutrements. He splashed some water on his face, and toweled off.

Meanwhile, Darcy was halfway through her nightly beauty regimen, having just arrived at "apply with fingers or cotton ball or pad" part of toning her face. Legolas walked over and picked up the bottle she had just put down, reading about antioxidants and cell-communicating ingredients. "Might as well get used to it," she said, looking at her reflection and coasting the ball over her skin. "I am not exactly a low-maintenance girl." She gestured at all the products that were already littering the counter. "Or an anti-cluttery one." She picked up another bottle and began gliding another cotton ball over her face.

"What are you doing?"

"Exfoliating. Getting dead skin off before it can clog my pores."

She pumped a tiny amount of some substance on her fingertips and rubbed that all over her skin, and then repeated that action with another pumped product.

"And now I am perfectly cleansed, toned, exfoliated, serum'd, and moisturized. With brushed teeth. Ergo, I am ready for bed. You…"_ care to join me_, Darcy mentally added.

"Yes, I am weary as well."

"Sweet dreams, then." Darcy tiptoed a bit and landed a kiss on his jaw—he was still a bit too tall to kiss his cheek properly without heels or a stool to stand on or him bending over a bit more than just his 'looking at Darcy' pose.

"Rest well." Legolas stared as Darcy went back to her bedroom, closing the pocket door behind her.

Things were progressing nicely, he thought. In a very short period of time, they had begun using physical expressions of affection that elf-elf pairings would take years to reciprocate. He went back to his room and lay on the bed, thinking of how much his life had changed recently. Recently is a relative concept and to an elf that spans about a century's worth of thought. But in particular, the last several years had been a blur of emotions. Things were looking up.

The morning light streamed down through a canopy of trees into Legolas's skylight. He got up, changed his clothing, and went to the shared bathroom. Locking the door, he made his morning ablutions. His elven hearing picked up the soft sound of Darcy's breathing. He smiled, left the bathroom, and went looking for his training partner for the day.

Clint Barton had arisen early himself, and was walking around the kitchen shirtless, wearing plaid pajama bottoms. Clint was a scarred man. Legolas could identify knife wounds around his ribs and at least one set of human bite marks on his shoulders as well as other, more jagged scars, one arching up from beneath the waistline of his pajamas. He was drinking Darcy's preferred beverage, coffee. "You want a cup?" Clint asked Legolas.

"Please."

Clint poured Legolas a cup, then started rooting around in the refrigerator. "You like eggs?"

Curious, Legolas answered, "Yes." Legolas sipped his coffee, finding it bitter and strange, but he was determined to give Darcy's coffee a real chance. Perhaps it was a taste that must be cultivated.

Clint pulled out a carton of eggs, a bundle of green onions, a block of cheese and a container of deli meats. He opened and shut cabinets and drawers until he found a box grater. Grabbing a bowl, he shoved the block of cheese and the box grater at Legolas, "Grate the cheese, then, like this." Washing his hands and the onions, Clint got down to the work of chopping up things for the omelets he had in mind. When the cheese was grated and the pan preheated, Clint began cooking.

Natasha strolled in, dressed in tight leggings and an oversized tunic and making nearly no noise. If Midgard had such a thing, he would suggest that Natasha were half-elven, she was so quiet. Of course, she was rather loud compared to a room full of elves, but for a human her stealth was incredible. "Good morning, Mistress Romanoff," said Legolas, bowing his head slightly. The breath left her in a silent laugh for some reason.

Smiling a predatory grin, Natasha stalked over to Legolas with cat-like grace. "As much as I enjoy being called Mistress," her eyes flicked over to Clint and something feral passed between them, "you should call me Natasha." Turning her gaze to Clint, she looked at the quickly-cooking omelet and smiled at Clint, "You have pleased me, Barton."

Clint plated the first omelet and passed it to Legolas. "Wouldn't be so sure about that, 'Tash. Looks to me that I'm just being polite to Earth's newest visiting alien dignitary. Doesn't look like I'm making a group breakfast to me."

Sliding a finger along his ribs, Natasha smirked, "Every man for himself?" At Barton's nod, Natasha's mouth formed another predacious grin and her eyes full of promise. "I'll remember that . . . later." She stalked to the pantry, emerging moments later with a CLIF bar, and walking away without a backwards glance.

Shrugging, Barton plated his own omelet and sat down next to Legolas. "Gotta keep 'em guessing, right?"

"Indeed," said Legolas, thinking that was the correct response.

"So, today we continue our grudge match. Darts, archery—hey tomorrow we should play pool or something, make it a trifecta," enthused Clint, excited by the idea of multiple days of competition. And perhaps also excited about winning on the basis of "two out of three" events.

"Omelets? And you didn't call me? For shame, Hawk, for shame." Tony came into the kitchen wearing a pair of black silken pajama pants and a matching robe, his arc reactor-laden chest visible. "You make some for the elf, who, ostensibly, ought to know how to cook his own eggs. Further, and I hate to point this out, but—he probably saw chickens evolve from lower life forms, he's that old."

Raising a brow, Hawkeye turned to Legolas, "How old are you, again?"

With the patience of the Firstborn, Legolas replied, "I just passed my 2,169th begetting day." Clint nodded and shoved his mouth full of more omelet.

Tony laughed, "You are literally older than Jesus. Hi-larious." He turned and went into the pantry, returning moments later with a silver-wrapped packet. "Ah, well, here we go, breakfast of champions."

"The breakfast of champions is Wheaties, not Pop-Tarts," said Clint, between hasty bites.

Opening the packet and putting the pastries into a box over the stove, and then hitting a couple of buttons, Tony pulled his breakfast out of the contraption moments later.

"Is that the brown sugar variety?" asked Legolas.

Tony nodded, his mouth full of pastry.

Legolas smiled, "I enjoyed that yesterday morning. Jane and Thor introduced me to the pastry, albeit Darcy introduced me to the brown sugar the other night when we made…I believe she called the confection 'cookies'."

Tony smiled at Legolas, and as their eyes met Legolas knew this was a rare moment for Tony. He was genuine without performing, and happy without artifice. Very briefly, Tony was entirely authentic. As quickly as the unguarded moment occurred, it was gone.

"So what's on tap today?"

Clint shoved the last bite into his mouth, washing it down with some water. "We're going to go shoot for a while. You?"

"I'm going to go get Brucey-poo and his alter-ego ready for a good romping time."

"Sounds fun. Be careful."

Tony shrugged. "Thanks, Mom. I'll wear clean underwear, too. Speaking of which, I should go shower before this escapade gets started. Have fun at the target range."

Putting his plate in the sink, Clint said, "When you're done, go get your gear and meet me back here. I'll be back in a minute after I get out of my jammy pants." Clint walked back toward his bedroom, emerging moments later in a pair of jeans and a sleeveless violet shirt, carrying a suitcase and a quiver. Legolas waited patiently, his own gear in hand.

The archers walked to the target practice field, which was connected to the Cabin by way of a winding sidewalk made of rustic pavers designed to look like cobblestones. There were several such paths, and Legolas briefly wondered where the others headed. He could see a very clear pond surrounded by stone around the other side of the house. But what lay farther away than that would remain a mystery, for now.

The practice field was much the same as any other practice field, except more Migardian. Instead of canvas stretched over a frame covering tightly-bound straw, the targets were made of some type of slick material with which Legolas was unfamiliar. He was somewhat surprised by the mannish targets, both in their composition and in the placement of the targets. The practice fields in Rohan and Minas Tirith were arranged with the targets somewhat closer than elvish ones might be, but these targets were at increments that he would expect among his people. Legolas smiled, much more at ease.

Clint knelt on the ground and unsnapped his suitcase. From within the foam he withdrew his snap-action longbow. With a flick, it unfurled and was strung. Legolas looked at, inquisitively. "This is a little number SHIELD came up with a couple of years ago, sort of a folding longbow." Clint moved a thick piece of foam and pulled out a compound bow, "But this is my baby. It's loads easier on the ol' arms than a longbow if you're going to be holding the draw for long or if you're going to be shooting a lot."

Legolas was immediately intrigued. There were wheels on either end of the bow and the bowstring seemed to be strung multiple times. His hands itched to investigate further. Pulling his bow from his shoulder, Legolas held it out in front of him. "This is a bow of the Galadhrim given to me by their leader, the Lady Galadriel. I have had it perhaps two years."

Clint looked at the workmanship, the inlaid golden leafy pattern and the arching lines of the recurve. Shrugging, he stood, compound bow in hand, "Couldn't tell you the last time I even saw a wood bow. Bows these days are mostly made out of fiberglass or carbon fiber. Yours is a real beaut, though. What's that string?"

"Elvish bows are strung with elf-hair."

Clint gave Legolas the fuzzy eyeball. "You don't say?"

"Indeed." Quick as a blink, Legolas pulled an arrow from his quiver and shot at the furthest target, sinking a bullseye. Clint fought back a grin and schooled his expression into a passive one. Shifting on his knees, he landed his arrow directly next to Legolas's.

"Perhaps your reputation is not overstated," said Legolas, "but it would be a poor sport indeed to make such a judgment after only one arrow, would it not?"

"Legolas, we're out here until we're too hungry to shoot, as far as I'm concerned."

"Then as Elves have little hunger or thirst or tiredness compared to Men, you will have to say when you have had enough sport."

Clint tamped down the urge to compete against him in "not needing to eat," as that felt foolish. "So I was thinking we'd do standing, then kneeling, and then maybe show-off doing some trick shots at the end."

Legolas nodded and they so they began.


	14. Chapter 14

Darcy woke up and stretched. Her room was a bit too sunny to sleep in any longer, and the summer sun was calling to her. She showered and applied a lot of sunscreen, a baby cateye and her typical red lipstick. Throwing her hair in a ponytail, she put on some shorts and a Ramones t-shirt and walked barefoot down the hall toward the kitchen. She paused outside the Thor and Jane door, poised to knock, and then a particularly enthusiastic sound from within indicated that her boss was otherwise…occupied. Darcy smiled at her mental pun, shook her head, and kept on to the kitchen, where Tony was engaged in conversation with Bruce.

"Look, Bruce, we're the only house for miles in any direction, and we back up into a state forest. Not a state park, where there are paths and people going around willy-nilly, but a state forest, where people actually have to hike because there are no paths." He sighed and ran his hand over his product-laden hair. "This isn't some game or trick, it's important that we figure out some metrics for you. As incredible as the Hulk may be, the instant you go from green to greenish, you're vulnerable."

"And at this point, if, say, you got tired mid-fight and couldn't maintain the Hulk and degreened, it could be devastating in certain combat scenarios," added Steve. "We need to be able to better predict the extent of your capabilities."

Bruce threw his hands up in the air, frustrated. "Fine, FINE. I'll do it." He sighed and sank into his bar stool, withdrawn.

Darcy trailed around the counter, "Anything I can help with?"

Bruce looked up at her, his heart in his sad brown eyes. "Only by staying out of the way…as far away from Ground Zero for this as you can get."

Tony began to argue with Bruce about his relative trustworthiness and not-quite-completely-animalistic-rage in prior battles, verging on almost-intelligent behavior. Darcy ignored them and made herself a rather nice sandwich while the conversation took a turn from persuading to encouraging Bruce.

"What's your plan today, Darcy?"

"I think my favorite scientist is 'busy'," said Darcy, making air quotes around the word and winking at Tony's smirk. "So I don't have to worry about real work today. I think I'm going to go find the Prince of the Woodland Realm and see how his target practice with Clint is going. What are you guys up to?"

Tony started in, excitedly explaining his project. "I made some clothes for Bruce, with a special iso-polymer." He began tugging on some fabric in front of him, pulling a small section out to show the bendy-ness of it. "—which should have enough elasticity to keep him dressed when he does his thing. Got the idea from Reed Richards. Such a jerk, but he's smart," Tony admitted begrudgingly. "And Bruce is going to wear this little suit I've designed for him and run around and do Hulky things—maybe uproot a tree or two, not like this section of Stark Forest couldn't use a few less trees—and then we're going to track his movements, heart rate, and so on via the sensors in the outfit. It's pretty snazzy, look!" Tony held up a garment that looked a lot like a wrestler's unitard made out of some squishy, foam-like fabric dotted with little silver sensors.

Smiling at Tony's effervescence, Darcy said, "Fun. Hope you find what you're looking for, then."

"Us, too."

The engineer, the scientist, and the soldier lumbered off. Darcy finished her sandwich and, glancing at the time, decided she'd make Clint and Legolas lunch. About forty minutes later she had a picnic basket full of bread, dipping oil, a couple of chicken breasts she'd cooked up quickly, a salad, and a bottle of vinaigrette. She threw in a few bottles of water and a canister of Gatorade—couldn't have anyone getting dehydrated out in the summer heat. She held the basket in one arm and grabbed a throw off of the couch. Waving at a headset-clad Pepper—"Last quarter's projections were spot-on, Reilly, but I think we can do better,"—Darcy exited the building.

There were no signs pointing out the proper way to get to the training field, and she'd never actually been there before. But, she knew it either had to be the east or west side because the back contained the more entertainment-oriented area of the house. She put her headphones in her ears, set it to the "Summer 2014" playlist, and decided to head …east.

Legolas and Clint were collecting their arrows from their latest round of shots when Legolas heard someone approaching. He turned to Clint, "Darcy approaches."

Clint looked quizzically at Legolas. "Sixth sense?" he asked.

Legolas tapped the end of his ear. "Elven hearing is most keen."

"How do you know that it's Darcy, then?" asked Clint, askance.

"Her footsteps are too light to be masculine, and yet too loud to be Natasha's, and she is humming a tune." Legolas cocked his head to one side slightly, considering Clint carefully. "Miss Potts seems unlikely to hum, and if it were Jane, I suspect she would be reluctant to visit the training areas without Thor or Darcy."

Clint nodded, a bit impressed at Legolas's deductive capabilities. Despite his brief acquaintance with the parties involved, Legolas had made good predictions of their behavior. It was well-reasoned.

"So what kind of trick shots can you do?" asked Clint, changing the subject as it was, in his opinion, exhausted.

With a smile, Legolas said, "Perhaps as the challenger, you should explain your own tricks, first?"

Clint grinned devilishly. "Allow me to demonstrate, then. Jarvis, initiate training protocol 'All Summer Long'."

A stump that Legolas had barely noticed replied, "Very good, sir." A flag pole about eight feet high came out of the ground behind the furthest target. "Exercise beginning in 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . ." As Jarvis finished the countdown, Clint's entire body tensed, and he exploded into motion, darting behind a nearby tree. Various targets exploded from …Legolas did not know what to call the contraptions, but they were very Midguardian and pushed bright green balls from themselves at angles and speeds that were constantly changing.

Legolas shimmied up a nearby walnut tree and looked at the field from above. Clint was mowing down the green balls, left and right, and often behind himself, without looking. After a few seconds, the balls started aiming themselves more toward Clint, as if predicting where he would move. Clint ran for the flag pole, shooting down more balls. A ball crossed the line of his sprint, and he avoided being hit by it by jumping into a forward ukemi roll, landing in a crouch. He shot the ball down, and another that was headed for him. Clint was brutally efficient in dispatching the green balls. None touched him.

Finally arriving next to the flag, Clint leapt and grabbed the flag, which tore from its Velcro moorings. The exercise stopped, and Legolas heard Darcy cheer for her friend. "Wow, Clint, that was amazing. I particularly liked the backflip where you shot one mid-flip. Impressive." Darcy dropped her package and walked up to her friend, giving him a high five.

"Thanks. Jarvis is a good competitor."

"Speaking of competitors, where's tall, blond, and gorgeous?"

Scanning the area, Clint replied, "Couldn't tell you. He was just here a second ago." Legolas jumped nimbly from branch to branch to get back down the tree. At his movement, Clint pointed him out to Darcy. "There."

Darcy watched, mesmerized as her soulmatch leaped from one branch to another. It was beautiful in the manner of a dance or a work of art, the ribbon of his hair flew behind him. Swinging from one branch to land on another, his back arched and his legs stretched nimbly, confidently, silently falling upon the branch. Moments later, he ran toward them, off the end of a branch, somersaulting midair, and landing lightly in front of Clint and Darcy.

"That was sooo," said Darcy, breathlessly. At Clint's elbow, she snapped out of it. "Uh, I brought lunch. You guys hungry?"

The cadre ate and drank, and other than the Gatorade, there were no new experiences in this picnic. Legolas preferred his water straight, which was expected.

They were all sated on bread and chicken and salad, lounging on the blanket and enjoying the summer sunshine. Legolas turned and asked Darcy, "Would you like to continue your training?"

Clint bolted up. "What? Lewis, do you have some latent interest in archery that I was unaware of? Could we have been bonding over fiberglass versus carbon fiber all this time? I mean, I could have gotten you a subscription to Archery monthly for your birthday." Hurt, Clint looked at Darcy, who smiled gently.

"No electricity in Middle Earth means no movies, no ipods, no bueno." Darcy sighed. "So, yes, Legolas and I shot some targets for a while at his Dad's place. Thor was there, he shot stuff, too."

Looking at Legolas, Clint incredulously said, "You got THOR to use a bow?" Incensed, he flung his hands up. "I mean, REALLY? How long have I known you people? And it's always 'why do you use a medieval weapon, Hawk?' and 'you'd get better range with a rifle, Barton'. Curse your sudden yet inevitable betrayal!"

Darcy laughed and changed the subject, "I think maybe I'll play after you guys get finished up. Tie-breaker rounds are serious business."

Nodding, Legolas stood. "I suppose I should begin the exercise, then." Turning, he fingered his quiver before asking, "Is the point to capture the flag, or to shoot as many of the green balls as possible, or both?"

"Yes!" shouted Clint.

"That was quite helpful. Thank you Clint," said Legolas, the picture of princely decorum.

Darcy laughed. "You got Told, Clint. Good luck, Legolas!" Clint faux-pouted and crossed his arms, gesturing his head toward the training field.

Legolas readied himself. "Jarvis, begin."

The green balls shot at Legolas from their random perches within the training field, and the elf jumped and turned, shooting them down as they arced through the grounds. At one point during the spectacle his arrow pierced two balls at once, but he did not stop, edging on toward the flag, intent and focused upon his victory. Then he heard a most unexpected sound.

The bellow of a cave troll assailed Legolas's ears - a sound he had not heard since the battle on the Morannan or perhaps the fateful battle within the mines of Moria. Turning, his heart thumping within his chest, he saw it, looking much as any troll would, but an unearthly green color, as it entered the ground and roared, shaking the very leaves on the trees. Fitting another arrow to his bow and realizing as his sensitive fingers ghosted over his nearly empty quiver that he had very few shots left, Legolas released the string and watched with some horror as the arrow glanced harmlessly from the beast's skin. He broke into a sprint, his eyes on Darcy upon her blanket—Clint was regrettably absent— her hands up, saying, "Okay Big Green, move along, move along. Nothing to see here." She made a shooing gesture toward the monstrosity.

Throwing himself between Darcy and the Troll, Legolas released a shot which struck awry on the beast's nose and fell broken to the grass. The monster, incensed, bellowed yet again, raising its great fists and pounding the ground before it, a wave of earth rising upon its strike. Legolas narrowed his eyes in concentration through the barrage of sound upon his sensitive ears and felt his legs beginning to propel him forward, until he gained enough momentum to make a running leap and catch hold of one of the Troll's arms. Swinging up to its muscled neck, Legolas loosed a third arrow, burying the tip into the monster's occipital, but again, it seemed to have no effect upon the monster. The Troll brushed the arrow from its hair and tried clumsily to throw off its assailant, twisting, stamping, and flinging its arms about, trying to dislodge the sure-footed elf. Never one to give up easily in the face of insurmountable odds, Legolas danced along the creature's elbow for a split second and shot at its eye. Three shots left. The Troll let out another roar of pain and rage, and its giant hand closed upon the elf, flinging him away like a dirty handkerchief.

Legolas tucked and rolled, landing on his feet and catching a quick breath of air. Reaching behind him and notching an arrow, Legolas realized that, like the great firedrakes, no weapon could pierce the hide of this creature. He released his final three arrows in well-timed sequence, drawing the Troll's attention away from Darcy, who had scrambled together the remains of the picnic into the middle of the blanket before slowly backing away. Legolas could see the glint of metal in his peripheral vision, but he could not spare his attention for the beast advanced.

The clearing seemed to close in upon Legolas, his Darcy, and this Morgoth-delivered monstrosity. First in Legolas's mind was the protection of Darcy, and with an empty quiver upon his back, and the Troll's green eyes upon them, he was left with but one choice. Kneeling upon the grass and laying down his bow, Legolas took a silent step forward, his hands raised, and began to slowly approach the beast. Sindarin words that formed a quiet, melodious song, a song oft used in the training of stallions, rose to his lips and came forth, weaving an enchanted melody about the grounds. The monster bellowed in rebellion, and raised its arms, charging the elf and swinging its fists as if to pound Legolas into the ground like a nail, but he leapt out of danger, his voice lifting, without breaking the song's rhythm, and continued to sing.

Blinking slowly, the beast seemed to hesitate, before stumbling clumsily toward Legolas again, and leaning forward heavily upon its hands. The elf, his eyes alight with the magic of his song, approached, laid his hand upon the Troll's arm. A half-hearted swing was aimed at him by the Troll's other arm, but Legolas simply leapt over the coming blow, crooning, pleading with the monster to tame itself, to be calm, and at peace.

The murky green eyes blinked once again and its great nostrils released a sigh as Legolas clambered to the beast's shoulder, burying his fingers in the unexpectedly soft, clean hair that covered the Troll's head, and the monster relaxed completely, first sitting upon the turf, and then subsiding into a submissive heap on its side. A smile playing over the corners of his mouth, Legolas ran his hands gently down the great green body, much as a horseman runs a hand down a horse's back to reassure it. Amazement filled him as he watched the beast transfigure itself into the form of Doctor Banner. He was stunned, and stared at Bruce's sleeping form for a long moment.

Confusion was in his eyes when Legolas looked up, and suddenly became aware of the others in the clearing. Tony was there in some sort of very tight metal armor, and he was…applauding? Steve was there, in his track pants and carrying a gaudily-colored shield. Clint stood to the side, bow in hand, and Darcy was behind a shirtless Thor.

"You okay?" shouted his soulmate from across the field.

Legolas turned and sprinted to her. "Yes, and you?" he asked, not waiting for her reply and beginning to assess her condition by running light hands over her arms and face and scalp, checking for hidden wounds.

"I'm fine. I was about to have a heart attack when you went 1-v-1 with The Incredible Hulk but you seem to have made it out okay." Darcy grabbed Legolas's hand. "I'm glad."

"That was awesome!" enthused Tony. " Jarvis got it on video. I can't wait to show Bruce. We should have a movie night tonight!" Tony clapped his hands enthusiastically.

"Speaking of Bruce, any idea how long he's going to be out? Should we move him?" asked Steve.

"I do not know." Legolas glanced behind him, uncertain as to his feelings regarding the bespelled Doctor.

Thor clapped a hand on Legolas's shoulder. "Most impressive, friend elf! You are a credit to your realm, an incredible warrior. Songs will be sung of this day where the Incredible Hulk was brought down by no more than a song." Thor's face became cloudy. "What was that song, I heard part of it. It was most soothing."

"'Twas a traditional elvish ballad."

"Ancient Chinese Secret, huh?" said Tony.

A moan from across the field alerted them to Bruce's return to consciousness. As he stumbled to his feet, he asked, "So did you get the data, Tony?"

"Oh, we got more than that, Sleepyhead."


	15. Chapter 15

"This is somewhat unseemly," said Legolas, looking at the proffered garment askance.

"Look, you old-fashioned, unfashionable old man, even Steve has on a swimsuit like this," replied Tony.

Steve Rogers was, in fact, wearing a bathing costume not unlike the one Tony was offering Legolas. "Still, this bathing costume is very... brief, smaller even than underclothing where I come from."

Tony snorted so hard he choked, and then laughed. "Apparently you haven't seen Darcy's panties yet, then."

Legolas looked away, feeling mocked. "We are not wed," he said quietly, his skin just beginning to blush.

Tony looked like he was going to say something else, when Steve approached the small building. "Tony, do you want me to start the grill yet?"

"Sure, go ahead and get it warm, the corn takes forever to cook," Tony turned to Legolas. "Look, it's just us out here. As much as we're different from what you're used to, you're among friends here." Tony looked at Legolas speculatively reminding Legolas of the way certain women in his father's court would eye him from time to time. Being Blank for so long, he was usually regarded as fair game from the matchmaking mothers of the court with their own Blank daughters to pair off. And of course, the race of Men was oft dazzled by elven beauty, be it male or female, soulmarked or not.

After another moment's perusal, Tony spoke up. "Look, Legolas, you have a really thin waist. I don't have anything that covers up more skin in any size anywhere near yours. Partly because I don't have many friends as thin as you, and partly because I'm a jerk like that to people who forget their suits." Legolas gave Tony an indignant look at his admission, but paused as Tony raised an apologetic hand and continued, "And while I'm sorry that you got caught up in my little joke, as yours isn't forgetfulness, I can't fix this problem. The nearest town is over an hour away, and it only has a Wal-Mart. There's no guarantee that this late in the summer, that there would even be a suit available for you there, much less in your size." Tony pulled a much larger swimsuit down from the rack, "Look-this would fall off your hips the instant you hit the water, and you'd be naked as the day you were born or hatched or whatever, right there in my pool." He smirked at the elf, "Although Darcy might not have a problem with seeing you in the altogether, she might not want to share."

Tony paused, "I can have one driven up here tomorrow from a store in New York that definitely carries your size, but tonight- This is it, this is what you have to wear. So you can either go to a party where everyone else will be wearing swimsuits of one variety or another dressed like...that" Tony flailed at the general Legolas area "or you can wear the suit."

Tony ran his hand over his spiky hair, briefly flattening it. "And, look, I wouldn't do this for just anybody—but I like you. So, just for the sake of solidarity, I'll wear one too. So that's me and Steve and you, all in these. And trust me, I'm the only one who comes out of this looking bad." A cloud of self-consciousness crossed Tony's face. Moments later, Tony was evidentially over whatever mental stumbling block had tripped him, and he grinned at Legolas. "So are we good, Principe?"

Legolas looked down at the tiny piece of fabric in his hand. If my father were here…. Legolas suppressed a shudder at the tongue-lashing his father would give him. Thranduil would probably put on his very finest robes and sit at the edge of the water, ignoring all who played in its depths, especially any fun they were having, practicing his cool disinterest. And were Legolas unlucky enough to be caught without an appropriate bathing costume, he would be dressed thus, at the water, in whatever finery his father commanded. Feeling somewhat rebellious, Legolas said "Yes. If you and Steve are also clad thus, I will be in good company, as you said."

Tony clapped him on the shoulder. "This little symbol goes in the front," he said, pointing. "I'll leave you to get changed, and I'll go do the same." Looking through the available garments, he grabbed a red pair. "See you in a few."

Once he had changed and folded his clothing, he put on a pair of borrowed plastic sandals that Tony had called "flip-flops". The sound they made assaulted Legolas's ears, and the texture was less than ideal, but the heat of the stonework outside the building made him reluctant to take the sandals off.

Steve was pouring briquettes into a barbeque pit, arranging them in a perfect little teepee and dousing them with a dab of some liquid when Legolas approached. Steve saw him out of the corner of his eye, "So, you forgot your swimsuit too, huh?"

"Ahh, I do not own this type of garment," he ran his hand over the lined spandex.

Steve pushed a long tube into the briquettes and they caught alight with a slight whoosh. "Well, my best advice is to ignore it." Steve straightened. "The teasing usually slows down quickest that way."

"This must be universal among those that tease, as this is the case on Middle Earth as well." Legolas smiled sheepishly and covered his urge to fidget with the brief suit by braiding his hair away from his face. Swimming with hair in his face was never fun.

Steve put a wire grid on the barbeque pit, and turned to grab a tray full of corn on the cob, still in the husk. His eyes and hands busy with his task, he said casually, "Those were some good moves there, today. Not many go up against the Hulk and live to tell about it."

Legolas frowned. "Why did no one see fit to explain that Doctor Banner and the Hulk…share the same body? What if I had killed him? How would I have lived with the taint on my soul?" Steve looked at the elf, whose blue eyes were full of pain at the thought.

Steve ran his hand through his hair.

"It's complicated." He sighed. "It's hard to explain the Hulk until you see him. And we thought we had given him plenty of room to play, but he got away from us. Next thing we know, Tony's in the dirt and my shield is imbedded in a tree and by the time we both recovered, he had already passed the house. And you know the rest." Steve clapped his hand on Legolas's shoulder. "But you did great. If you'd have killed him, it would have been justified; you were protecting your girl." Steve patted Legolas awkwardly. "And besides, to our knowledge the Hulk doesn't really have vulnerabilities, so the odds of anything hurting him were slim."

Legolas's lips tightened as his posture became more rigid. "Dangers to him—What about dangers to us? It was an inexcusable oversight on your part to fail to inform me of dangers to myself and to Darcy."

Steve looked away, patted Legolas one more time, then dropped his hand and sighed, looking up at Legolas. "You're right. It was a mistake."

The heat taken from his anger by the man's sincerity, Legolas turned to glance at the main house. Jane and Pepper were working in the kitchen proper while Darcy stood behind the bar, pouring from a pitcher. Her brow was knit in concentration as she tried to avoid spilling. A thin line of liquid trailed down the side of one glass, Darcy raised the glass to eye level and licked the droplet off, her tongue pink and wet. The world slowed as Darcy laughed at something one of the other women said, her red lips smiling, shaping letters as she responded, turning. Her hair brushed her shoulders, one curl defiantly separated from the rest. Legolas's hands itched with the desire to return it to its rightful place.

A jet of water hit him in the chest, making him expel a breath he didn't realize he had held. Looking for the source of the wetness, he saw one Clint Barton with a device in hand that appeared to cause the water jet. "What good are your 'elven senses' if you're not going to use them?" Clint smiled and became distracted himself as Natasha strolled out. Legolas glanced over at the quiet woman who was wearing an open-worked lacy sweater over a skintight black garment that stretched from her crotch to her shoulders, ending in a neckline that scooped into two straps. Scandalous.

Not many, few elves and fewer men, can read through the outward serenity of the typical elvish expression to the inner thoughts behind the outward placidity. But, in an insight that was telling as to what Natasha's super-ness in the band of superheroes was, she told Legolas, "Better get used to it, Legolas. We're all in this type of clothing tonight. This is pretty conservative compared to, say, Pepper's."

Legolas nodded politely and asked, "So how was your training this morning, Natasha?" With a knowing smirk at his deflection, she responded. But Legolas's attention was divided between the house containing his lively soulmatch and the conversation at hand. He was considering what Darcy might be wearing as he caught another glimpse of her shoulders as she drew Jane into a hug.

"…won't you, Legolas?" asked Natasha.

Legolas looked at the woman, her expression uncharacteristically-perhaps manipulatively-hopeful. The bits of conversation he was ignoring in favor of categorizing the expressions of laughing blue eyes and smiling red lips stretched over straight, white teeth came rushing in. Natasha wanted to train with him tomorrow. "I would be pleased to train with you, Natasha. Please advise Master Jarvis of what time I should be there and there I shall be," he said smiling down at the distracting mortal.

Mortal. A word that described so many of his favorite people on Middle Earth, and all the people here—except Thor—and yet a word he hated so much. When Eru Iluvatar had created Legolas, He had decided that he would love none among his own kind, that his soulmate would be found among the Edain, and not of his world, but of this one. Legolas smiled sadly at his bittersweet fate, an expression that confused Natasha.

"Okay so Darcy tells me that this raspberry lemonade is a good one to start out with tonight. So I spiked it a little." Tony sauntered up with a tray of the drinks that Darcy had been working on and a pitcher. "That one with the straw is Darcy's."

"What is this, Speedo Day?" asked Clint in his board shorts looking pointedly at Legolas, Tony and Steve. "What, you think that I can't pull it off? I mean, I know I'm no Dorito-shaped elf, but, at least invite a man to the party." Natasha rested a familiar hand on the small of his back and murmured something in his ear, which Legolas tried valiantly not to overhear, politely coughing into his fist. Clint gave Natasha a toothy grin as the rest of the Avengers-and-Assorteds came out from the main house.

Legolas heard Thor's enthusiasm for the various meats upon the tray he carried. He heard Pepper remark upon Tony's swimwear, complimenting the way he "filled it out." But his attention was consumed by the woman in a light, gauzy dress that went to her feet and simultaneously revealed every line of her body. She was struggling to shut the door behind her, her hands filled with pitchers of lemonade, trying to catch the knob with her hip and force the door shut. Legolas felt himself walk forward on the awkward flip-flops, a moment later he was at her side, shutting the door and taking a pitcher from her hands.

"Oh!" said Darcy, inarticulately. Realizing it was Legolas, she smiled at him. The wind shifted and the ever-recalcitrant lock of hair again left its brethren, reaching toward Legolas and brushing against the skin of his chest. He inhaled swiftly, the fingers of his free hand coming up to grab the rebellious lock. He met Darcy's gaze as he pushed it behind her ear, his fingers mindful of the shell. He wondered briefly as to the sensitivity of her ear, but feeling a bit out of his depth, gave her a small smile and turning and walking with her to the rest of the cadre.

They put their pitchers on the bar—hand-squeezed raspberry lemonade to which Tony had added "a little something". Darcy grabbed her glass off the tray Tony had carried, and put her lips around the straw, drawing in a good sip. "It turned out good. Want some?"

"I am a bit parched," admitted Legolas, his mouth dry and his tongue thick in his mouth. Darcy passed him a glass that was just beginning to condense, reaching over to a bowl of raspberries and garnishing his drink.

Pepper reached over for a drink, too. "The sun is going to be out for hours, Tony. Why are we eating so early?"

Tony chirped "Because I wanted to make sure we were all feeling good before we saw Bruce's cinematic debut after it gets dark enough for the projector."

"Thanks, Tony." Bruce chimed in sarcastically.

"Anytime, Big, Green, and Sleepy."

Legolas sipped his lemonade while he took in the scene. The shrill sound of AC/DC's allegedly-greatest hits filled the area as the group separated into smaller groups. Steve and Thor manned the barbeque, Thor making comparisons to Asgardian cooking methods and Steve indulging him. The Scientists Three and Pepper made conversation over at a patio table, while Natasha and Clint reclined poolside on lounge chairs. Natasha got up, walked over to the bar, and fished a bottle out of a drawer, and came back to her spot. Uncorking the bottle and pouring some kind of cream into her hands, which she began to glide over her legs. Legolas averted his gaze as the red-haired woman pushed and pulled at her skin, making sure the cream was evenly distributed. As soon as one leg was done, she started on the next until she passed the bottle to Clint and, after adjusting her lounge chair to lay flat, she pulled her hair aside to allow Clint to do the same.

"Ohhhhhhhh everyone! We forgot the SPF45!" cried Darcy, moving toward Natasha. "We'll be old and wrinkly before our time!"

Pepper snorted into her drink, "Speak for yourself, I applied fifteen minutes prior to sun exposure." Darcy stuck her tongue out at the competent woman as she made grabby hands at the sunscreen.

Darcy pulled her gauzy coverup off, exposing an outfit not dissimilar from Legolas's own, except it had some covering over her breasts and was in a very fetching lavender shade with white dots. She sat on a lounge chair, and began the same process as Natasha. He glanced furtively over at her, unable to resist watching her and feeling voyeuristic for it. It was so rhythmic, the manner in which she rubbed the lotion into her skin. He noticed her fingernails were colored a red that nearly matched her lips, as were her toenails. The pale hands with their highlighted ends glided over the curves of her knee, one hand on the inside of her thigh, one hand on the outside as she ran out of sunscreen. Gathering more lotion, she again worked on her thigh, her fingers skimming over every part of her leg until she shifted, slightly, to apply sunscreen to the back of her thigh before repeating the process on the other side.

Legolas gulped a bit of his lemonade, surprisingly thirsty for a creature that needed little sleep, or food, or water. Darcy began spreading the lotion on her belly, her navel appearing and reappearing over the top of the pantalets, her pinky seeming to tease the indention before moving on. Her right arm applied sunscreen to her left arm, and she arched her neck and threw her hair, her glorious and unruly curls, over her shoulder. Legolas went to take another sip, but realized his drink was empty.

She rubbed the lotion into her shoulder, her neck, her chest. Legolas swallowed and looked away, oblivious of the amused glances of the ever-aware superheroes. As he looked back, Darcy shifted her head again to move her hair, and a lock fell in front of her shoulder. Darcy blew at it, trying to avoid touching it with her hands. It didn't budge. Without thought, Legolas felt himself start forward to pull that rebellious lock into place, but Darcy wiped her hands off on a towel and hooked it with her thumb, pulling it over her shoulder, paying Legolas absolutely no attention as she slathered that shoulder with the lotion, too.

Legolas went to return his glass to the bar- but before he could even set it down, Tony was there, pitcher in hand. As he refilled Legolas's glass, he said, "You're about to miss the best part. Or maybe second-best." Darcy's hand was applying the lotion now to her soulmark. To see her caress his words was...heart-warming, indeed. Unconsciously, he raised a hand to his own soulmark. Darcy called to Natasha for help, and Darcy again wiped her hands off on the towel and pulled her hair up. White fingers with red polish threaded through black curls. Natasha's efficiency at the application of the lotion was impressive, for Legolas had scarcely glanced at Darcy's back before the process was done.

Darcy sighed and put her cover-up back on. "Legolas. Do you need some sunscreen?" She waved the bottle at him.

"No, elves do not sunburn." Legolas smiled a bit.

"Elves don't sunburn. Elves don't age. Elves don't die. What else do you elves 'not do'?" asked Tony, cheekily.

"We can die." Legolas looked at Tony. "But then we go to the Halls of Mandos to be cleansed before our rebirth in Valinor."

"So you just get an infinite number of bites at the apple? Which life are you on?"

Legolas laughed, "No, no. I am on my first 'bite at the apple' as you said. The most anyone has had, to this point, is two. I suppose that the process of rebirth might be somewhat traumatic and those who have gone through it have no desire to revisit the process."

Tony shrugged. "Seems unfair, somehow. Why do you get great hair and glowy skin and eternal life and I get sunburns and not-eternal life?"

Legolas turned away, pained. "You are not wrong. In many ways, the Gift of Man is his Doom as well. But, no one is more alive than a Man. Elves…" He looked at Tony, perhaps through him, "We linger on, forever. Among my kind I am young, but I am older than every man, every dwarf. Once an elf reaches his adulthood, our lives become largely...complacent, perhaps even stagnant. It is only these last few hundred years since the rise of Dol Guldur in the southern part of my forest that there was anything that disturbed the peace of our lands." He focused again on the bemused man. "So while your lives are short, you accomplish much during them, especially compared to what an elf might do in the same period of time."

"Yeah? So my life expectancy is about three weeks without this-"Tony tapped his arc reactor. "Or I might make it to my late 80s or early 90s. What have you done in the last three weeks? In the last 90 years?"

Legolas blinked at Tony, and began to reply...


End file.
